


Aşk ve Nefret (Love and Hate)

by Gothbull



Category: Ianthony - Fandom, Smosh
Genre: Broken Family, Depression, Love Triangle, Multi, abandonmet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothbull/pseuds/Gothbull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At seven years old, Magdalene was given the task of taking care of her family. For eleven years her mother has been locked away in her room, drowning herself in all the drugs she could get. The grief of losing her husband was simply too much to bear. Soon, the weight of losing her children will be placed on her shoulders, and how will she handle that?</p><p>Magdalene can only trust two people outside her family. Two boys who were her childhood friends amidst all the chaos: Anthony and Ian. Since Magdalene has grown into her female body, and the boys have grown into their own, Magdalene begins to notice the way the boys look at her...and the way she looks at them. Each boy makes her feel something different, but does that mean love can feel completely different for other people, or is her love for one of them artificial?</p><p>In spite of all the madness happening in her life, she will have to figure this out. And will it lead to a happy ending, or is her life destined to be full of misery?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deserted

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. At the moment, I'm working on a different project, so this story may return later.

My mother was never what one would call a strong woman. Her world was flipped so bad that the big things didn't seem to matter, yet it was the little things that would send her over the edge. Though, it's interesting. She walked around like a ghost, wailing, like she was searching for someone to blame for her murder. But I think she knew deep down somewhere in that cold, calloused heart: She did this to herself. She did this to her children.

Go figure. The guilt would be too much for her fragile soul. I could see the pain coursing through her body every day. Just watching her move slowly throughout the house gave me sympathy pain I could hardly contain; I couldn't imagine what she must have been feeling.

I remember the night that changed her - and myself - forever. Barış wouldn't remember. He was too young; his mind would have blocked it out. The argument itself is a bit vague in my mind. I was also young, and I didn't understand the definitions of specific words, but I understood the weight they held as my father spat them at my mother. I could feel how thick the air was of pain, discomfort. I noticed the worry lines on my father's face, and how he wished he didn't have to say these things to her. And I understood my father was definitely leaving that night.

"Priska, you told me this would stop," my father whispered, his head in his hands, something he only did when he was overwhelmed with disappointment. "We're finally able to afford the schooling for Maggie and Barış, and you're _pissing_ it away. How could you do this to our _children_?"

"I am trying to tell you, Yusuf," her voice was breaking. All I could see from the crack through my door were her thin fingers gripping the dining chair like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. "I couldn't help it. You know how I get-"

"You have a family here," he finally looked up at my mother, his eyes fighting tears. My father did not cry easily. "How dare you put your selfish needs before theirs? That is not what a strong mother does." I heard her scoff, offended.

" _A strong mother?_ " she repeated him. "Yusuf, I never wanted to be a mother in the first place!" He eyed her, harshly. She was being too loud. She would wake Barış up. "Magdalene was not my intention. She was _yours_. I was forced into motherhood!" She let out a bitter laugh, pacing, it sounded like. "And she's born, and she's beautiful, and I thought maybe I could do this... And she hated me."

My father stood, reaching out to my mother, he walked out of my sight. "Priska," he sighed as I heard her muffled cries, possibly into his chest. "Maggie loves you."

"She loves you more," my mother sobbed. "Since birth, you've been the only one to get through to her, and connect with her. She doesn't love me like she loves you." My father sighed and murmured something in Turkish. It was too quiet for me to try and decipher, though I did hear him say Barış. "That's not the point, Yusuf!" she shoved him back into my view. "I was forced into a life I did not want, and gave up my years for these children, for _you_."

"We all must make sacrifices, Priska. Especially for our children," he spat harshly. "Neither of us expected our lives to be this, but we must make the best of it. America has many great opportunities for our babies, and these drugs will ruin it for them!" Drugs. I thought about all the things I had to take when I got a very harsh case of pneumonia, and the purple syrup I had to give Barış to rid him of his cough. Weren't those drugs? "I can't believe you even got back into them again. We agreed to stop once we found out you were with Maggie."

"But I d-..." she sighed, trailing off. My father's ears perked up, and he eyed her.

"What?" he demanded.

She sighed again, sitting down at the table, her frail shoulders slumped. "I didn't really stop," she whimpered. My heart froze up. My mother had a very strong, German voice that could boom about the house very easily. Hearing that voice become feeble and small sounded so wrong, and I didn't want to hear it anymore. My father's eyes widened. At first it was just shock, but as my mother continued to speak, it became anger. "I mean, I stopped while I was pregnant, but I started again as soon as I possibly could. I never made the decision to stop. You did."

The next thing my father shouted was so loud that it made me jump, and press my hands fiercely against my ears in shock. I held them tight, too scared to let go and hear the violent storm my father had just become. My hands muffled enough, though I could still hear him shouting. He would flow in and out of Turkish. unable to keep a clear head. My mother began shouting back.

"Then why do you stay?!" I heard her scream. Hot tears dripped down my face. Then behind me, I heard crying. Wailing. Barış.

I got to my feet, and ran to the crib that was at the foot of my bed, tripping over something in the dark. Barış was too old to be sleeping there, but my parents couldn't afford another bed yet. "Maggie," he screamed. I shushed him and pulled him up into my arms, trying to get him to quiet down. I didn't know how my father would react to my being out of bed when he was already so emotional. I rocked and cradled my brother, shushing softly, telling him it was okay.

My parents were suddenly silent, and my heart stopped beating. The bedroom door, slowly cracked open, flooding more and more light into the dark room. I blinked the pain away, noticing the silhouette of my father standing there.

"What are you doing out of bed?" he asked me. His voice had softened. I sighed in relief.

"Barış," I squeaked. "He was crying." The small boy had quieted his sobs to sniffles and little gasps, clutching the back of my gown, and sucking on his thumb. Another thing he was getting too old to do. My father sighed and turned on the light, closing the bedroom door behind him. He walked up and placed his hand on the back of Barış' head to which Bariş smiled and reached out to him.

"Come here, buddy," my father grinned, his strong nose lightly crinkling at the bridge. He got the boy to calm down to where he could sleep again, and placed him back in the crib, sighing as he did. "He outgrew this thing a long time ago." I looked down, at Barış' legs. He had to keep them curled up to his chest to fit. None of us thought his legs would grow so fast. My father turned to me. I gazed up at him. "How is your school going?" he beckoned me to sit on the bed with him.

"It's...fine," I was hesitant to chat. After everything I had just heard, I wasn't positive I'd continue going to school. "It's hard sometimes."

"Not hard," my father corrected. " _Challenging_. That's how school is supposed to be. It gets you ready for life. In school, you come across a problem, and are told to solve it. Maybe you can't get through it as fast as other kids, or with as much ease as other kids, but you do eventually figure it out, right? That's how it'll always be."

"I have to have my teacher help me a lot," I looked at my knees. They were slightly scuffed from eavesdropping by the door. "The other kids probably think I'm stupid."

"Asking for help does not make you stupid," my father said sternly. "In fact, it makes you brave." I looked up at him, confused. "When you ask your teacher for help, you're admitting to her that you don't fully understand the problem, and you can't do it by yourself yet, and that's okay. She doesn't get mad at you, does she?" I shook my head. "That's because she understands that you have to learn. If nobody ever asked for help, nothing would ever get done, and no one would ever learn anything new."

I allowed his words some time to sink in before my mother's words found their way into my head again.

"Baba?" I whispered, afraid to actually ask. "You're not leaving, right?" He looked away from me, at the door. His light smile, fading immediately. "I don't want you to go." He sighed, hard, wrapping an arm around me. He rested his head on top of mine, not speaking. I took this as a regretful, but definite, yes. Tears formed again. "I'll go with you," I whimpered. My father lifted his head and looked down at me.

"No, you won't," he denied, sternly. The sobs built up in my chest and hopped out of my throat, each one harder than the last. Father got on his knees on the floor in front of me, holding my face in his hands. "Magdalene," he was trying to get me to look at him, but my eyes were shut tight, as my body rocked with cries. "Magdalene, please," his voice began to break. It only made me cry harder.

"You _can't_ leave!" I shoved his chest hard. "You _have_ to stay!" My hands were punching him as hard as they could, which wasn't very. He lightly caught my wrists, simply trying to get me to stop hitting him. He didn't try to hurt me. He was crying now, quietly. I stood and fell into his arms, gripping his shirt. Maybe if he thought I wouldn't let go, he would give up and stay. His chest rocked as the tears fell down his face. A sight I never thought I would have to see.

He squeezed me tight, cradling me. Soothing me. We sat there, on the floor, for a long time. But it wasn't long enough.

"Magdalene, I have to leave," he calmed his voice down so he was only whispering to me.

"Why?" I squeaked.

"Because..." he sighed. "Because sometimes people just don't want to admit they need help." My mother. It was the only explanation.

"You must take me with you," I begged.

"No, Magdalene," he said again. "I need you to stay here. You have to take care of your brother, and protect him, and teach him.

But I also need you to take care of your mother. Get her to realize she needs help."  
"Why can't we do that together, here?"

"She won't make progress with me in this house," he sighed. "But I think you could help." The door opened and my father squeezed me even tighter, protectively.

"Yusuf," my mother beckoned. "She needs to sleep." My father nodded before she departed from the door.

"It's time for me to go, baby," he stood, lifting me with him.

"Please, Baba," I wrapped my arms around him, " _Please_."

He got me into the bed, and tucked me in. He went to Barış first, and stroked his hair before kissing his head. "Never stop growing," he whispered, smiling. He came over to me, pulling me into one last hug. "Don't ever forget what I taught you," he whispered into my hair. "I love you, Magdalene." He kissed my forehead, turned off the light, and walked out the door.

I stayed up, holding myself under my blankets, listening, hoping to hear nothing. But an hour later, I heard my parents talking again, my father say one last thing, the door open, and then close. And it was silent.

He was gone.


	2. Propositioned

"You can't honestly tell me you seriously tried on that!" Ian exclaimed, his blue eyes scrutinizing my paper. I pulled my face away from the white sheet under my hands, taking a look at the overall outcome. It was an art assignment I had waited until the lunch period before to do, and it wasn't looking too good. "Why does he look like a potato? And why did you use a red colored pencil?"

I narrowed my eyes at the boy, placing my hands over the drawing. "You've never heard of Red-Potato Lincoln? Our seventy-third president?"

"Ignorant," Anthony chimed in, shaking his head with me.

"Right, right. And General Asparagus back in WWII. How could I have forgotten?" Ian faced back to his sandwich, taking a generous bite. He was right. I really wasn't putting effort towards the picture, but I couldn't walk into class with nothing. "So," he continued, talking with a mouthful of crumbs, "Have you thought much about it yet?" I gave him a questioning look.

"The house," Anthony clarified. "It's a good idea."

I sighed. "Uhhh, living in a two bedroom house with the both of you?" I slowly lifted my hands until they were playfully wringing around my own neck.

"Funny, Mag," Ian wiped his mouth, feigning a smile. "We can put beds anywhere we want, really. The office space can be used a bedroom." I knew it could, but from what I've noticed, they wanted to really get serious with this Internet thing. If it was going to become a job, even a temporary one, they would most likely require that room for equipment, and a computer.

The conversation was so hypothetical anyways. Neither of the boys had jobs, and the little money Anthony was getting from designing websites would be nowhere near enough to pay for a house statement, food, or gas. Especially for three people. And all my money was going straight into my family's mouths. Barış was so tall, and spent most of his life running that he had quite the appetite which more than made up for my mother's lack of one. Not to mention, the boy grew faster than kelp, so he would either have to wear Capri pants and crop tops for a while, or I would have to cough up a few bucks to get him some proper fitting clothing.

Either way, my money was spent before it was ever earned.

"We could make it work," Anthony sang, trying to get me to cave. Of course, that sounded awesome. Ian and Anthony were my best friends, and I only loved one person more than them. And that was why I never agreed. Barış. I couldn't leave him with my mother. She couldn't take care of herself, let alone her children. He wouldn't survive without me to counteract my mother's poisonous anchor. Barış would drown.

The bell, signalling the end of our lunch period, saved me from having to outright deny the answer. I hated saying "No."

\--

"What did you get for your President Potato Head or whatever?" Ian asked.

"Surprisingly enough," I pulled my messenger bag comfortably on my shoulder, "A six out of ten. I think he felt bad for me."

"Probably thinks you should've backed up a few grades instead of jumped ahead one," Anthony burned me, and traded a high five with Ian, to which I politely flipped them the bird. "Aw, now I think I don't want to give you a ride home anymore, Maggie," he smirked, dangling his car keys in front of me. Did he think I was going to beg?

I swiped the keys from his thin fingers and began jogging away calling behind me, "Yeah, that's why I'm driving myself!"

"Oh, heellll no!" I heard Ian bellow, clapping his hands like it was about to "go down." I didn't get very far. My bag was too heavy and my legs weren't long enough. Anthony's legs, however...

"Uh, I don't think so," he wrapped his arms around my torso, essentially lifting me to try and run on air before brought me back down to a halt on the concrete. "Nice try," he smirked, not even out of breath, "Drop 'em."

I laughed, breathlessly, letting the keys slip from my fingers to the ground in front of me. He let go and bent down, hooking the key ring on his index just as Ian caught up, panting lightly. "Whew," he set his hands on his knees, "Wasn't planning on running a marathon today!"

"Ah, quit your whining," Anthony shrugged us off, continuing down the cement path. "Do you guys want your rides, or not?"

"You coming over?" Ian asked from the passenger seat. "I'm definitely in need of some pizza right now."

"No, I think I better just get home," I sighed.

"What? No, that's lame," Anthony groaned. "I wanted to watch Mortal Kombat tonight." He was trying to sweet talk me...and it was working. They both knew they would have to wait for me to watch it with them. It was difficult to deny the offer, but...

"Barış will be home soon," I shook my head, my black hair whipping around slightly. "I have to get dinner ready. We don't have anything that's a 'quick fix' right now." For the most part, it was true. I was going to have to get that night's and the night after's dinners ready. I could whip up some pasta real quick, but I was going to have to start a broth for the next meal. We had nothing else.

Ian and Anthony knew what my conditions were like at home. Anthony knew ever since we were very little, but I think I finally told Ian about it in eighth grade. I was so embarrassed to admit everything, but Anthony told me his life wasn't all that different from mine, and Ian said he'd help me out and understand my life as best he could. It was a relief to know I wasn't struggling alone. Still, the pressure to please my family and friends at the same time was suffocating to say the least. My friends assured me I didn't have to try and choose favorites. They knew my family took priority.

"Maybe tomorrow though," I shrugged. "Depends on my mom."

"I guess we'll have to put Mortal Kombat on hold then," Ian sighed dramatically. The car ride was quick, and filled with laughter. Anthony pulled up to the curb in front of my home. It let my heart down a little bit to have to say goodbye so soon. The best times of my days were when it was just the three of us. Home was stressful and overwhelming.

"See you guys tomorrow," I said, departing from the car.

"See ya," they responded before I shut my door. Anthony had gotten in the habit of waiting for me to go inside before he left. There was an instance when I had forgotten my keys at home and was locked out. My mother was asleep, and didn't bother waking up to the sounds of me pounding on the door or even her window. I had to wait two hours for Barış to come home and let me in.

I felt my pockets as I walked, finding my key ring in the left back slot. As I got my front door open, I spun around to give the boys a quick wave goodbye and they pulled away.

The house was completely silent, though I knew my mother was there. She would be in her bedroom, sleeping. I could wait about an hour to start cooking, and have Barış help me. That sounded better. I crept to my room, trying to keep the floor from creaking and giving me away. I wasn't in the mood to get into it with my mother today. Everyday was the same. She would pick a fight with me over anything and everything. Hell, she threatened to ground me for opening the door to loudly one time. Like she even had that kind of authority over me anyways. She stopped being my mother a long time ago.

I even made the conscious decision to start calling her "mom" instead of "mama" because I knew it hurt her. " _Mama_ " was an intimate name that offered the feeling that I was aware she had any sort of maternal instinct towards me anymore. " _Mom_ " was impersonal and let her know it was only a title she held for me by societies standards. Mama left exactly when Papa did.

Neither came back.

Stop thinking, Magdalene, I thought to myself. I intended to do a little homework to get mind off the painful memories, but my bed kept calling to me. Trigonometry would have to wait.

It felt immediate. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I didn't even wait to fall asleep; I just began dreaming.

_I shot up out of my bed. Someone was saying my name. I hopped off the mattress and sped to the front door. It was opened already, and I gazed questioningly outside. "Mag!" Ian waved from the street as Anthony stepped out of his car. "Come on! It's moving day! You ready?" Moving day. I had forgotten. It wouldn't be hard to pack my things; I had so little._

_"Magdalene," I heard a strong voice behind me. It was almost unrecognizable. It had been so long since such a tone had been heard through the house. I craned my neck to see behind me._

_"Mom?" She stood beside the table, which was filled with food._

_"Don't you want some breakfast?" She was smiling. Smiling. The stress lines across her face had vanished, and her arm was wrapped around Barış. He grinned._

_"Come on, I helped her make the eggs just how you like them," he reached out to me._

_"Maggie?" I turned my attention outside again. Anthony had walked to the center of the front yard. "I thought you wanted to come with us." His lips set in a frown, and his eyes were heavy with sadness. "You promised. You've never broken a promise to me." All the laughter and joy from our childhood together filled my ears, actually beginning to hurt me. I pressed the palms of my hands flat against the sides of my head._

_"Magdalene, what are you doing?" This wasn't my mother, or any of the boys. My father stepped in front of me._

_"Papa!" I gasped. I outstretched my arms to embrace him, but he grabbed my wrists before I got close enough._

_"Maggie, what did I tell you?" He eyed me like I had wronged him. "I told you to take care of your family. You can't leave."_

_"You left!" I shouted, escaping his grasp and smacking his chest. "You left us all alone! You knew exactly what would happen to mama when you walked out! And you left a seven year old to do your job!" I felt a sting in my hand as I slapped him hard across his face. He dropped to his knees, as his hands caught my wrists again. He began crying, begging for forgiveness. "I needed your help," I glared, tears falling._

_I_ _stopped, realizing the tears weren't falling vertically down my cheeks; they were sliding horizontally from the outer corners of my eyes, and sneaking into my hair._

_"Maggie!" Barış shouted. I turned to him, leaving my father on the ground. "You have to stop! Wake up!"_

"What?" my voice was hoarse, and was suddenly loud in my ears.

"Wake up, Maggie," Barış was shaking my shoulders. I opened my eyes quickly, seeing my little brother right in front of my face. His eyes were glossy. I lightly pushed him back and sat up.

"What's the matter?" I asked, hastily.

"I'm not crying," he laughed, touching his face. "You smacked me. My eyes are just watering."

"Oh my gosh," I gasped, getting to my feet and pulling his head down to look at the red patch on his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Don't worry, sis," he chuckled again, pushing my hands away from him. "It didn't hurt very much. Shocked me, mostly. I was just trying to wake you up." His eyes lowered to my hands. "You were dreaming about Papa, it sounded like."  
  
The sting in my hands became suddenly more noticeable and I gazed down at them. Little, bloody crescent moons had formed on either palm. The tears, which had found their way into my hair, began dripping down to my ears. I wiped them away. "I was dreaming about...everyone," I murmured. I sniffled lightly. "Let's get dinner ready."

Barış insisted on making the pasta on his own, with which I was fine. I had taught him pretty well. Also, it gave me more time to prepare our stew in the crock-pot for the next night. We worked, mostly in silence. We whispered to each other as I asked him how school was. Our mother could be awake at any time, but neither of us wanted her to come out yet. The more time she spent trying to talk to us, but ending up lashing out at us just caused an even thicker tension to waft around the house. The less we saw of her, the better.

Well, at least the less I saw of her, the better. It was hard to say how Barış felt about her. He can vaguely remember our father, but doesn't remember the realization of how he suddenly wasn't there. He never had to go through that, and he never knew why Papa left either. I remember Barış asking why mom was so sad all the time. It wasn't that she was so sad. She was just trashed. I couldn't tell my brother about the drugs. It would break his heart. He'd spent so much time believing that one day mom would wake up, and she wouldn't be sad anymore.

I knew that wasn't the case. She would probably never let go of the drugs. It was honestly surprising she hadn't gone too far, and killed herself by that time. I think Barış did feel resentment towards her for never being there for him, but at the same time, he was trying to be understanding of her depression, though he didn't know the whole story. I didn't think I was ever going to tell him.

Barış had set three plates on the counter, and began laying out our servings. There wasn't very much.

"You can cut mine in half and take the rest," I offered. "I'm not that hungry tonight." It was a lie. I was starved, but I knew he had just finished with soccer practice after school, and he was in need of it more than me. I pushed half of my share onto his plate. He knew not to protest. "I'll tell mom," I said. "Go ahead and eat."

My mother's room was on the other side of the house, where the lights were always kept off, and the floorboards where the loudest. I stepped lightly on my toes to the door. Every time I walked up to her room, it always felt like a horror movie. I was always so scared that when I opened up the door, all I'd see was blood, or her laying on top of the covers with a needle in her arm, her eyes open. I hated that part of the house. That's where the discomfort and pain where the heaviest in the air.

I took a deep breath, and knocked twice on the wood. I didn't hear anything. No bed springs creaking. No quick shuffling to pour everything into her nightstand drawer so I didn't see it. I quietly twisted the knob and pushed open the door, my eyes shut tight for a few moments. I realized my heart had stopped beating. It was terrified about the lack of sound. "Mom?" I asked softly, squinting my eyes open. No blood. No syringes. Just a lump underneath the covers of her bed.

She stayed still for a moment before slowly turning over to see who it was. "Hm?" she responded. Her eyes were barely open, and her hair was all over the place.

"Dinner's ready," I answered.

"'Kay" she croaked. And I quickly shut the door, wanting to be rid of the darkness. Barış gave me a quizzical look as I speed walked to my plate and to the couch.

"What up with you?" he asked, a mouthful of noodles.

"Nothing," I let out a breath and my heart finally began to beat again. "Mom's awake."


	3. Exhausted

My night was not used for sleeping. At three in the morning, I realized I had written five pages about Pablo Picasso even though the assignment was for two, shoved my books into my bag, and laid on my bed. Still, sleep never came. I guess I was concentrating so hard on not thinking about my family that it made me think of literally everything else.

At four in the morning, I realized I wasn't going to sleep at all. My mind would continue to relive moments, and race through the details of my life. So, I decided to think of something nice. My friends. There was Anthony, my oldest best friend. Ian, my second oldest. Was there anyone else? There were people I talked to throughout the day at school who I didn't consider my enemies. I suppose those counted. Or perhaps it's simply people who I habitually talk to.

If that's so, then there was also Cindy. We met Freshmen year. It wasn't a strong relationship. She was in a couple of my honors classes, and offered me the seat beside her since we didn't exactly like anyone else. We'd talk, joke around, and help each other out. She was a sweet girl. I remember when Ian thought he was in love with her. He begged me non stop for three days to try and talk him up to her. If for no other reason than to get him to shut up, I finally agreed. When I brought him up to her, her first reaction was, "...Who?"

"That kid I hang out with," I laughed. "The shorter one."

"Oh, that Hecox kid?" she furrowed her eyebrows. "He's kind of weird." I couldn't help my laughter from bubbling out. "I'm sorry! He is! Oh, gosh, now I feel bad."

"You don't have to like him, Cindy," I rubbed my forehead. "He just wanted me to, uh, see what you thought I guess."

"Oh, don't tell him I said he's weird," she blushed, hiding her face. "I'd feel so bad. Just...just tell him I'm flattered, but I'm interested in someone else."

To this news, Ian groaned, "Damn it! They always got to be taken!" I giggled at his outburst. "Seriously, I'll never find a girl who is actually available and doesn't think I'm weird." I didn't see exactly what was so weird. Maybe it was just that whole clique thing. He didn't fully fit into one, though I supposed Anthony didn't either.  
The only reason I had friends outside of them was because of my honors classes. I had an open invitation to the "Smart" clique, but I never accepted it. Kelsey offered me a seat with her smart friends at lunch, but I declined. Ian and Anthony were more important than "fitting in."

I never told the boys about that. Ian knew he didn't exactly place anywhere in that high school. A lot of people never did, but no matter how many times I told him that, he shrugged it off. I could tell it was like he thought he was holding Anthony and me back from having a "spot" on the pedestal of high school groups. He didn't understand how much Anthony and I just didn't care about that. Our trio was all we needed. We were our own clique.

Anthony hated the idea of "cliques." I bet that if he did try, he would easily be accepted into one. He was smart, and hot by high school standards. I had more than one girl ask me if I was "totally in on that." I assumed that meant they wanted to know if Anthony and I were a couple. When they found out he was available, they'd ask me to put in a good word for them. Suddenly, I was Cupid's little messenger for my friends.

Anthony never gave any of the offers much thought. He just wasn't interested in anyone at that school, which I totally understood. The only people I liked enough to say more than just "hi" and "bye" to were my boys. From my experiences, the girls were all interested in either becoming a trophy girlfriend, or just getting laid. And the boys were just interested in getting laid. High caliber people.

I'd never really noticed Anthony setting his sights on a girl before, though I had seen him eyeing me more than a few times. We never brought it up. Never brought up "feelings" at least. There was a time we went through that whole "I wonder what kissing is like" phase. And thinking we were good friends, and it wouldn't be awkward, we just...tried it together. We were too young to think anything about the emotional attachments that come with kisses, romantic or not.

We kissed. For a while. I don't mean we made out one night. I mean it was a number of kisses over a period of time. Basically, we would talk about it, and discuss what kisses were supposed to be like, and whether or not you were meant to use your tongue. Eventually, we got passed that conversation, feeling like we had explored it enough. Nothing sensual came from it, and we never felt obligated to start a relationship because of it.

Things were running smooth until one day, I felt like I was being watched. I was in the library, studying Frida Kahlo, trying to ignore the obnoxious kids at the round table beside mine, and I got the chills. That wasn't a sensation I felt very often. Self-consciousness flowed through my arms and legs, and the small hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Someone was staring at me.

Trying to not draw too much attention to myself, I nonchalantly glanced up and scanned the room. My sight locked up with a pair of big, almond eyes. We sat, staring for a few moments before he realized I had made eye contact with him, and he wasn't sneakily watching me, and he blushed, nodding my direction. I nodded back before he looked back down at the book in his hands, probably turned to a random page. His posture became uncertain, and he checked his watch, shoved the book into his backpack, and zipped out of the school library.

My face was cherry, I could tell. It felt like everyone was staring at me blushing.

That was the day my suspicions were roused. It did cause a lot of concern in my head, however, I didn't feel it was serious enough to bring it up. Maybe he was just going through a phase or something. Hormonally unstable boys would be hormonally unstable boys. But what if it was something else? What if it was serious?

Stop thinking, Magdalene, I rubbed my face. I glared over at the clock resting upon my nightstand. It was five in the morning. I decided to skip trying to sleep for a half hour, and just get ready for school. The best part about not sleeping at all is that there is still a lot of leftover energy from being so hyped all night which one can put towards hastily and efficiently preparing for the day. However, this still wasn't good news, since it was guaranteed to run out by my second period class.

It was going to be a long day.

\--

I pulled the sleeves of my cardigan down, so I could clutch the hems in my palms. I was getting way too comfy on this bus. My seating partner was about to become a pillow. The ride to our campus seemed to take an eternity, but as soon as I noticed the brick building getting closer and closer, I wished it had taken longer.

Anthony sat on a bench against the main office, a book in his hands. His long, dark hair hiding majority of his face as he gazed up to see the yellow bus pulling into the drive. It was a horrendous shuffle to get off the large moving prison, and back onto settled ground. As my toes met with the concrete, I looked up to find Anthony had marked his place, and tucked the book under his arm, standing to greet me.

"Morning," I muttered, adjusting the strap of my messenger bag.

"Wow," he exclaimed, matching his stride with mine, "How do you manage to look good and bad at the same time?" He was pointing out the obvious difference between my perfect sundress, made up face, and curled hair, and my tired, red, irritated eyes. "You look like you're going out on a date you're not at all happy about."

"I didn't sleep last night," I sighed, my flats padding as I walked. "Like at all."

"What were you doing?"

"Ugh, I just couldn't get my brain to shut up!" I growled, smacking my forehead with my palm.

He responded with laughter, "Not surprising. What'd you think about?" I knew whenever he asked that, it was always a genuinely curious inquiry. All the time we spent together, and the boy still had trouble understanding me sometimes. I could see that it frustrated him to say the least, but I also think he liked it about me. He never really knew what mood I'd be in, or what kind of food I would be craving, or what crazy jumble of words would fall out of my mouth. I think he dug it. My spontaneity.

Because of his little liking he'd taken to me, I elected to avoid telling him majority of the night was spent thinking about him. Did I have a crush on Anthony Padilla? Maybe, but why? Did I genuinely view him in that type of light, or were these feelings just stemming from a place of wanting to be mutual since I knew he had something for me? I was terrified to lead him on when I wasn't even sure where my heart was. I replied simply with, "Everything."

Ian caught the sight of the two of us walking in his direction, and seemed to quickly cut off his conversation with the professor. He waved and our paths intersected.

"Wow," Ian exclaimed, although, it was more of a whisper. His eyes ran desperately down my dress, and I could tell he was having an internal battle in his head. I imagine it going something like:

_"Stop looking at her like that."_

_"But she hasn't worn a dress to school since freshmen year..."_

_"That's you're best friend, dumbass!"_

Anthony cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets as Ian finally broke himself of the magic that is the female body.

"Yeah, I dressed up, boys," I raised my hands, "Let's move on." I walked away towards our first class, figuring they'd catch up once they collected themselves. Maybe next time I'll just show up in sweats, I thought to myself.

First period wasn't the most awkward thing I've ever had to endure. I was pretty good at ignoring things I didn't want to see or admit was happening, so pretending I didn't notice both the boys' stares all period was cake. The only time it got uncomfortable was when I noticed a boy named Callem Jennings peeking my way. Ian and Anthony noticed too, trying to act nonchalant. This is ridiculous, I groaned in my head.

Finally, an honors class I didn't have with either of them came around. Cindy flashed me a quick smile as I walked in, and looked back down at her text book. I breathed a sigh of relief as I took my seat next to her. No more boys glued to the sight of me, hopefully.

"Those shoes are really cute," Cindy commented.

"Thanks," I yawned. "Kinda wish I hadn't worn them."

"Why? Blisters?"

"No. Boys," I corrected her. She giggled lightly. "Really, I wear a dress and curl my hair and it's like the guys are all seeing me for the first time. Ian and Anthony won't get their eyes off of me. Boys I've never even spoken to, don't even know their names, are glancing and I think contemplating talking to me."

"You're like the new hot girl that just transferred," she laughed.

"Really, it's silly," I muttered.

"You're probably just a sight for sore eyes to most of them," she scribbled something down on her paper. "Not so much your friends though." I didn't catch her meaning. It felt like I had completely missed another sentence she said in there somewhere, and it was integral part of the conversation.

"What did you say?" I demanded.

She giggled once more. "Come on, girl," she bumped her shoulder against mine. "There's no way you could have missed the way they look at you everyday." They? Everyday? "As soon as we met, I noticed the really tall guy staring at you all the time. Who knows how long he's been on you. And the shorter guy has been looking a lot lately too." I felt my face plastered into shock. She grinned, trying to hold back anymore laughter. "You never noticed?!"

Anthony staring at me. I knew about that. I had never seen Ian look at me in a way that made me feel any vibes like that. Maybe I was so distracted by Anthony...? I didn't know what to think. It was interesting. Knowing Anthony had feelings for me made me nostalgic, and caused me to blush at our silly kissing memories. To know Ian might've had feelings for me caused my legs to get that pins and needles feeling and a warmth to spread deep in my chest. Was one of those feelings meant to be real, and the other one not?

It seemed insane that I had never noticed how long they had been interested. I guess I spent so much time thinking about my life away from school and away from them, I didn't offer up very much time for them anymore. They were my best friends, and suddenly, I felt like I had been neglecting them. Had I been taking a closer look at them, I may have realized all this sooner.

I groaned, resting my head down into my arms on the desk. It was too much to think about with such a tired head, and exhausted body. The burning relief of finally closing my eyes for more than a second was exhilarating, and made me feel like real life suddenly didn't matter. Sleep was more important. Just a few minutes would probably get me by. Just until the professor shows up. What could be the harm?

The transition was so subtle, so deceptive. I didn't even realize...

"Where's Anthony?" I asked Ian. The cafeteria was packed and full of a constant level of chattering. Anthony was usually the first person I ran into for lunch.

"He stayed behind in P.E. for something," Ian mumbled, sounding irritated. I stared as he unwrapped his sandwich and pulled out a small bag of baby carrots, offering them to me. He knew I didn't bring a lunch. I never do. I murmured a comment of gratitude as I accepted the bag, laying it open between us.

"Something's wrong," I attempted. His pretty, blue eyes glanced over to me, then back to his lunchbag. "Ian, you can talk to me; you know that. Tell me what's up." He huffed, his eyes swishing around the room like he was being watched.

"Anthony likes you," his mutter was quiet, but harsh, "And I know you like him too." As if being unable to control my feelings was a betrayal to him. How dare I?

"If that was true, what would be the problem?" I demanded.

"The problem is...I like you, Mag," his voice fell to a whisper. If someone heard him admit that to me, and then heard me push him away, it would be humiliating. "I like you, but I know you don't like me." He was emotional, but not upset. It was more like he wasn't sure how to feel, or maybe he was feeling everything all at once, and that's why his fingers trembled. I didn't know how to respond. What would be the appropriate way to handle that situation?

"How do you know I don't feel the same way?" I whispered back. What? My mouth had decided to switch on autopilot and see what happened.

"I...what?" he finally met my gaze, bewildered by what I had just said.

"Why do you think I don't like you, Ian?" I rephrased. He took a few moments to ponder the question. I did the same. Neither of us were sure what I meant by that. Was I asking surely from a hypothetical standpoint of just wanting to know, or was I trying to drop him a hint? No idea.

"Because...well...because I can tell you and Anthony have something you and me will never have," he shrugged.

"Just because we've know each other longer doesn't mean we're meant for one another," I shook my head.

"Magdalene?" a voice from behind me chimed, sounding hurt. I spun slowly on the bench to see Anthony standing there. He'd heard that comment, but he was taking it too harshly.

"I didn't mean..." my voice trailed off, and suddenly it was a chore to try and talk. Wait, Magdalene? He never called me that.

"Magdalene!" I awoke with a start, nearly hopping out of my seat. Cindy's bony fingers were wrapped around my arm where she was probably shaking me, and our professor was standing at the end of my desk. "Are you conscious now?" he demanded. A couple kids snickered.

"Yes," I let out a breath. How long had I been holding that? "I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

He eyed me brutally before spinning and striding back to the front of the classroom. "Now that we've all woken up..."


	4. Offended

Ian and Anthony were already at our table by the time I got to the lunch room. I took a second to look at them. They were laughing. Ian was using his hands very animatedly, probably describing a joke set up for a video. Anthony was listening intently, his grin spreading wider the crazier his friend's motions got.

How silly.

I had blown the whole thing out of proportion in my head. Apparently, to my friends, there wasn't even a "thing" to freak out about. It was all in my head. Although, the neglect still rang loud and clear in the back of my mind. I did believe I wasn't providing as much of my attention to them as I could have. Yes, my family would always have to come first, but I could find a simple balance. A happy medium.

"Mag!" Ian noticed me, and flagged me over. I almost tripped on my way over; the lack of rest was beginning to take a serious toll on my body. "You look spent." My eyes lazily rolled up to look at Ian, a task I was starting to find rather taxing.

"You have no idea," I muttered, covering my mouth for a yawn. "It has certainly been a day." The exhaustion was really starting to make me wonder what about that day had been real, and what did I invent? Perhaps, I never had that conversation with Cindy. Maybe Anthony never even greeted me to get off the bus. What if I wasn't even at school at that moment?

"Here," Ian pulled out a small bag with baby carrots inside, tossing them to me. "It might help if you ate something." I mumbled a comment of gratitude, taking a carrot and twirling it between my fingers. At some point, I realized the world was dark. I could still hear all the bustling of the cafeteria, but my eyes refused to open back up unless it was absolutely necessary. "Guess we should pass on us all staying over at your house tonight. She'll be dead as soon as she gets home."

"Yeah, you can come over," Anthony replied, a mouthful of food, "We just can't watch her movies." If I'd had the energy, I would have felt bad for being unable to stay the night. Instead, I allowed my head to drift.

"What do you think of...her?" Ian asked, gesturing to a girl named Sarah. She was in my P.E. class. She was very attractive very easily. It was like she was born to be beautiful. The only complaint I had with Sarah was her knack for selective hearing. It was almost a talent, however, everyone knew if they weren't complementing her, they wouldn't be heard. And that wouldn't be a good girl for my best friend.

"I don't think you want to know what I think of her," I stifled a laugh, playing with the hem of my dress. "What about Carla?"

"What about Carla?" he repeated, almost offended I'd even suggested her. She was a sweet girl. Everyone's friend. The only problem with that was her inability to keep up with every single friend. The poor girl always had somebody talking to her, and unfortunately, she had only two ears. I assumed at one time or another she must've been forced to ignore Ian to listen to someone else, which she had done to me before. I didn't get upset because I had a vague idea of what that was like; being pulled in way too many directions at one time.

She was probably spread too thin, and eventually, her presence in everyone's lives would be so fleeting, she wouldn't be anyone's friend anymore.

"Ah, nevermind," Ian surrendered. "I don't like anyone who's going to like me back."

"Well, I looks like you're not going to find a girl from here, at least," I sighed, crossing one leg over the other. "We've gone through them all, and none of them seem right for you."

"None of the ones we've talked about at least," he mumbled. I gave him a hard glare, as if to demand elaboration. "Mag," he set a hand upon my shoulder. "Mag!" he said louder. I shot upright. "Lunch is over," Ian informed me, looking grateful that he'd been able to wake me.

"You alright?" Anthony attempted to hide his smirk, glancing away.

"What's your problem?" I spat, fixing my hair.

"Absolutely nothing," he grinned harder. Maybe I _was_ delirious.

"Am I awake, or is this a dream?" I asked Ian, who responded with a confused look and a light blush. Why was everyone acting so strange? It had to be a dream. "It's getting hard to tell the difference."

"Pretty sure you're awake now," his cheeks flushed a little deeper. "It's getting difficult for us to tell too." I gave him a look as I swung my bag onto my shoulder, pushing away from the table. "You were talking in your sleep," Ian elaborated, "I didn't realize you had passed out."

Then, it was my turn for my face to burn up. I just wanted to shrink and hide. Talkative sleep was a habit I grew into after Papa left, and whether it was about the current dream or not, what I said was typically embarrassing. "Ugh, I don't want to know!" I cupped my ears, causing Anthony to practically cackle. It must have been something humiliating. 

\-------

The rest of the day was a blur. Nothing felt real until I finally got home, and plummeted onto my bed. I didn't have to do anything for dinner. The homework would be easy to fake. All that was required of me was sleep. Before my mind drifted off to dreamland, I hoped with all my heart that the rest of senior year would be quicker and easier.

"Mag?" I was awoken by my little brother some time later. I felt the heat coming off his body, meaning he'd only just gotten home from his soccer practice. His thick, black brows were set together in a worried wave as I peered up at him.

"What's wrong?" I shot upright, scared I may have hit him again. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he pushed my hands away. "Mom is...awake...and up..." My heart stopped. I don't know why. It was like he had told me there was a serial killer in the house. I slid to my feet, attempting to tip-toe to the door. I leaned over and peered down the hall, to the kitchen. I didn't see her, but I saw the pulsing light from the television, bouncing off the refrigerator.

"I'm going to go see if she's okay," I whispered. My legs didn't want to respond at first. It was like they were cemented into place; however, I knew I'd have to be brave and chisel away the stone. She was still my mother. I had to check. My steps down the hallway were deliberate and silent. The excited yelling from an infomercial kept getting louder and louder until I finally rounded the corner, finding my mom, sitting upright on the couch.

Her stare seemed vacant, like she wasn't actually watching it.

"M-mom?" I murmured.

"Mm?" she slowly pivoted her head to look in my general direction. She wouldn't focus her gaze on me. Actually, it felt like her entire existence was out of focus. It was like her life was the equivalent of the myth of Bigfoot.

It took me a couple of moments to regain my breath before asking, "A-are you...hungry?" I swallowed. "There's s-"

"Stew," she readjusted her eyes to the television. "Again. I saw." Again. Again. Again?!

"Yeah, well, it was all we had." My skin started to burn, and my blood began to boil. She had the balls to make comments about the food I made for this family? Not once has she stepped a foot further than the yard since Papa left, and she thinks she has a right to say anything?

"No food? You're supposed to go grocery shopping." Her words were abrupt, each one more shocking than the last. She scratched her arm where all the penetration points from the syringes were, and watching it hurt my skin.

"No money," I said through gritted teeth.

"Thought you had a job."

I was absolutely appalled. How could she possibly think it was okay for her to act this way and say these things? "Yeah, mom, I do. But it's not enough."

"And you don't care to get a better job." She wasn't asking if it was doable, or if I simply didn't want to. She was stating for a fact that I was lazy. Too lazy to try and get a job that I didn't only work for on weekends. Too lazy to go to school, go to work, make dinner, provide for this family all in one day.

"Any job I get, I'd only be able to work weekends, and that isn't going to pay the bills we're behind on or feed the empty stomachs in this house," I folded my arms. "I can't keep this place running by myself, _mom_."

"Watch your tone, Magdalene," she attempted to chide me.

"No, Priska," I clenched my fists. "You watch your tone." She simply stared. I had never said her name aloud before, and it felt weird. However, it also felt...good. The roles were reversed. The authority was replaced. I ruled this house. I provided for this family. I had the say. I had the right. My mother didn't have anything.

"Go to your room," she demanded. Though, it didn't sound as angry as it did before. This time she was only exhausted from talking to me. She wanted me out of her face.

"Trust me, I'm going to my room," I stepped back a bit. "And I'm packing my bags, and I'm leaving. And Barış is coming with me." I heard gasps both in front and behind me. My mother was suddenly livid, and Barış was probably scared. I quickly spun and sped down the hall. My brother was standing in the doorway of our room. I pushed him inside and shut the door behind me. "Pack," I ordered. He hesitated for only a moment before turning away to gather his things. I could tell he was holding back tears as we brought together our final immediate belongings. He was trying to be strong. I was simply too angry to even consider feeling sad or disconnected. I wasn't leaving anything behind in this house that I needed. I was leaving behind everything that was holding me back.

"Magdalene," I heard faintly as I guided my little brother out the door. My feet so desperately wanted to keep moving, but at the sound of my mother's weak, little voice, my ears perked up. I got curious. "I'm sorry," she whimpered.

Her face was old and broken. She was too young for the amount of wrinkles she had. It was a combined reaction of the drugs and he grief. Some tiny, little piece of my heart began demanding the rest of me to stay. Maybe...maybe she could change. But maybe just wasn't convincing enough.

"So am I," I stated. My voice was hard, and uncaring. Years of hard work and hatred had all boiled up in my body and it took everything in me to not release the steam. With those final words, I slammed the front door, and pulled Barış away from the only house he ever called a home.

It was then, he broke down. My comfort wasn't enough. He needed his whole family, and I couldn't pretend to be his everything.

\-----

Ian lived the closest to us, though it was still a forty minute walk. Our bags and hearts were heavy, making the trek even more excruciating. Barış silenced his cries halfway through our trip, which was otherwise quiet. I knew he wasn't finished letting all of his emotions out, but I suppose he decided the streets weren't the best place to release them.

My head was spinning until Ian's house came into view. I saw the white swing bench on the front porch, and all the memories with it. My pace picked up as we reached the walkway to their door. I was excited to simply be around friendly faces, and to be somewhere I could sleep safely.

Three knocks.

Ian's mom opened the ivory door, adjusting her glasses before smiling.

"Maggie!" she opened her arms to me. "How are you?" I dropped my bags and accepted her embrace. She was warm and smelled nice. She felt clean and happy. That was how a mother should have felt.

"Hi, Mrs. Hecox."

"Oh, little Barış," she looked passed me. "My, you're not quite so little anymore are you?" He very lightly smiled down at her. He was trying to be polite in spite of his broken heart. "What can I do for you two?"

"Well, Mrs. Hecox," I ran my fingers through my hair. "I hate to be a burden, but... Barış and I have left home." She glanced down at our bags, her smile fading. "We need a place to stay for a while. Just until I can figure things out."

"Oh, my dear," she lightly gripped my shoulder, "You're always welcome in our home. Please, come in."


	5. Abandoned

"You guys can sleep on my air mattress in here. It's not all that big, but you're both super skinny," Ian offered, pulling a box out of his closet.

"If anything, I'll just take the floor," I shrugged. I was digging through my bags for nothing, really. I just felt like I was missing something. When I glanced up, I noticed Barış was about to protest to my alternative, but I simply waved him off.

Ian's mom was kind enough to allow us to stay in the same room together. I think part of the reason was because we were friends for so long, and she trusted me. Another reason might have been my brother's eyes. They were swollen and puffy, and the poor boy was just broken looking. She could tell he needed to be with people he liked.

"Anthony was going to come over, but you guys seem like you need rest," Ian commented, kind of wringing his hands nervously. Maybe it wasn't that he was nervous. It was more likely he simply wasn't sure of himself in this situation. We'd never really had a heartfelt conversation about my home life other than when I explained to him what it was. I figured he wouldn't know what to say. It was expected.

"Yeah," I sighed, "It's just been...a rough day." I rubbed my eyes for a moment, wondering if Anthony would be hurt when he found out about all this tomorrow instead of tonight. "I'd like to call him though."

"Yeah, go ahead," Ian gestured out the door. "You know where the phones are." Ian's mom was in the kitchen where one of the landlines were, so I opted to use the one in their living room, away from the ears of others.

The line rang a few times before Anthony answered, hesitantly. "Uh, hello?"

"Hey, Anthony," I greeted into the receiver, hoarse.

"Oh, hi, Maggie!" He responded, enthusiastically. "What's up?"

"Well, my brother and I are at Ian's house," I began. "We...we left home."

He was silent on the line for a few seconds, maybe trying to decide if it was going to be a permanent departure, or if we were going to return to my mother at some point. "Tell me what happened," his voice was soft. If anyone knew even a little bit of what life was like at home, it was Anthony.

"I just..." I sighed, trying to find the right words. "She's just not there anymore. It's like someone has possessed my mother. She lays around in bed all day everyday, shooting herself up with God knows what, and she can't even recognize how hard I work for this family." I felt my eyes begin to burn. "I just can't take it anymore. I don't think we can go back."

"Then don't," Anthony replied as if it was an obvious no-brainer. "Maggie, I'm surprised you didn't take Bariş and leave on your eighteenth birthday. You could totally take care of your brother without her."

"It's not that simple," I rubbed my forehead.

"Because she's your mom?"

"...yes."

I had the feeling he was going to continue his small argument about how her relationship to me didn't actually mean anything, but he didn't. He instead just asked, "Do you want me to come over?" His voice was sincere, and telling. He wanted to come over. He wanted to comfort me. He knew a troubled life was better lived when there was someone there to understand. He knew me. Maybe that's why he started developing feelings for me.

I sighed, feeling my lip trembling just slightly. "A hug and a shoulder to cry on would be great, but I can wait 'til tomorrow," I laughed softly, trying to lighten the scene.

"You sure?"

"I'm a big girl, Anthony," I teased.

"Okay, but if you're lying about being alright, you know I will find out," he warned, though I could hear the smile he wore. "Let me talk to Ian before you hang up."

"Yeah, I'll go get him," I cleared my throat. "I'll see you in the morning." I gently set the phone down on the small side table and quickly paced my way back to Ian's bedroom. "Anthony is on the phone in the family room. He wanted to talk to you real quick."

Ian thanked me and trotted off to talk to our friend. Barış had the air bed almost full, and refused to let me help him with the rest. Never an unpredictable trait with my baby brother.

Mrs. Hecox made a gracious amount of food for us, and it was just a breath of fresh air to not have been the one slaving away over a meal I would probably not eat. That night, I got my full portion, and I intended to eat it, since there was more than enough for Barış to be satisfied. Still, due to the lack of an appetite I'd had for the past few years, I couldn't finish my share, and gave the rest to my brother. He was eager to accept.

I had intended to fall asleep right away, but sleeping in the same small mattress as your larger and more obnoxious sibling was not exactly relaxing. He tossed and turned and took up the whole damn thing. I decided it was best to simply take a blanket and camp on the floor.

"Mag?" I heard Ian whisper just as I was about to flop onto the carpet. "You okay?"

"My brother is a greedy sleeper," I hissed back, gathering a cover for myself.

He stifled his chuckle, "Come up here then. The floor isn't going to be comfortable."

"It's fine."

"No, we didn't agree to have to over just so you could break your back on my thin carpeting," he demanded. "Come on." He shuffled the blankets, opening them up for me, and inviting me in. I froze for just a moment. Was this supposed to be like a plan that lead to something? Something that involved feelings? Was this innocent? Sure, we slept in the same bed a couple times when I stayed over when we were younger, but... At some point, hormones start to make you think little actions like that aren't okay anymore. "Mag, what's wrong?" I was overreacting. He wouldn't invite me into his bed just to try anything with me on a night like this. Ian was a gentleman. Why was I being so silly?

I placed the blanket back on my brother and slipped into Ian's bed. The covers were heavy and warm. A content sigh escaped my lungs as I laid on my side, only to realize I was face to face with Ian. He found this initially shocking as well and attempted to back up. "S-sorry," he stuttered, scrambling to flip away from me.

"Ian, chill out," I told him. "This doesn't have to be...I don't know. Awkward?" Maybe that wasn't what I meant to say. "Just sleep normal."

"Sorry..." he murmured, readjusting his position. "I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable." I chuckled quietly, getting snug with the covers, and beginning to drift. I don't know how long we had been lying in silence, or if I had really fallen asleep yet...

"Mag?" Ian whispered.

"Mm?"

"I'm sorry about your mom," he replied. My eyes slowly opened back up and attempted to adjust on the figure in front of me. I was too tired to really succeed though. I only sighed.

Was I supposed to respond with 'eh, it's alright, I'm used to it'?

"Maybe that's a dumb thing to say about it," he commented. "I just don't really understand what you're going through, but I wish I could. I just want to be able to tell you something that could help you." I couldn't help the smile that spread across my drowsy face.

"Ian," I mumbled, reaching out. I found his arm, and he seemed to stiffen at my touch. I followed his arm all the way down to his hand and gripped it. "You're one of my best friends. The fact that you try so hard to understand my pain just to comfort me through it is enough. It means a lot."

He remained silent. I suppose he was just taking time to allow my words to sink in. After a while, his fingers grasped my hand a little tighter, and he adjusted our hands to lie between us. "Night, Mag."

The night was quiet. For a little bit, at least.

It wasn't long until I awoke to Ian shaking my shoulders, trying his best to keep his voice a whisper. "Mag, wake up!" He sounded urgent and frightened. My eyes snapped open, searching for his face. It was an easy find since he was only a handful of inches from me. His breath lightly warmed my face. "A-are you awake?"

"Yes," I breathed. "Are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that," he seemed too intense. "You were screaming. Something about a beast or..." A beast. That sounded right. It was a rare kind of nightmare for me. My dreams hardly ever visited a fantasy land. Maybe all the stress of real life was getting to me, and my brain thought I could use a vacation. But it was bound to go totally wrong.

"Monsters," I clarified, panting. My heart was racing a hundred miles a minute.

"What happened?" He asked, still very close to me. I didn't want to answer. I think he sensed that in my fidgeting legs. "Mag, you can tell me."

"It was you and Anthony," I blurted out. I guess I was nervous about his response. Ian was a bit sensitive, though he did try very hard to not be. He might've taken my dream too seriously.

"Look, we could trim our hair if it would make you feel better," he shrugged. I giggled at his tease. "That's it? We were just weird monsters?"

"Well, wolves," I explained. "Or, you were. I think Anthony was something else. Like a mutant, or something." I laughed as I said it out loud. It was actually so silly.

"Did anything happen?" Something did happen. And that's another thing about it that was so silly. Though, it still caused me to blush. Maybe it was just the knowledge of sleeping in the same bed as a boy that caused my mind to shift into the gutter. Either way, I was embarrassed.

"I..." I cleared my throat. "Yeah, but I can't remember what it was." I don't think he believed me, however, he simply went back into his resting position and allowed me to fall back to sleep. The dream picked up exactly where it left off.

\-----

"There's a bus that comes right through this neighborhood from your school, okay?" I told Barış, throwing on my jacket. "I think it's number 23, but make sure you ask the driver of it comes through here." I was beginning to sound like a mother, and I could tell because of the boy's face. He was bored and on the verge of rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed. I told him I didn't want him going home. Not yet. I was debating on whether or not I would stop by and just make sure she was fine. There was a low churn in my stomach, and though I figured it was because of how much I ate the night before, it still worried me.

"Can I jog to school?" He asked, lacing up his running shoes. I tapped my toes, thinking. He wasn't in grave danger. He was tall and strong and fast. I didn't know why I felt so paranoid. Still, I let him go.

Anthony came to pick up Ian and me for school. To think, it was almost over. Senior year had began six months ago, leaving only a little over three months of learning time. I couldn't believe it had gone by so fast, and that suddenly frightened me. Where did all that time run off to?

As soon as I stepped outside, a harsh wind attempted to knock me down, though it failed. It was so cold, I thought my liquid eyeliner was freezing on my face. Barış was running in this? I supposed it didn't matter though. Once he began running, he would become a personal heater. Also, this cold wouldn't last the whole day. It'd warm up as the day progressed and get colder when night fell. He'd be okay.

I saw Anthony parked at the curb, staring out into the street. He must've been thinking, or spacing. Ian closed the door behind me.

"Ready?" He asked, locking the door. I nodded and we made our way to our friend's small sedan.

"You okay?" he asked me as I sunk into the passenger's seat. He had the heater on and it felt nice. "Where's Barış?" he followed up.

"He wanted to run to school," I shrugged. "I'm sure he has a lot of stress he just needs to get out."

"Yeah, what about you?"

"I'm fine," I smiled, looking over to meet his shimmery, brown eyes. He was staring me down hard, trying to see if I was being honest. Sure, my heart was still broken, but I was with two out of the three boys I cared the most about, and that meant I was already healing.

We made plans to hang out together that night at Ian's house. I was excited for it. I knew it would be good for me, and it would be good for Barış as well. It meant I could still take care of my family while I spent time with my friends, and that was an important balance for me to have.

My outfit that day wasn't as glamorous as the day before, though, I guess tight pants and all black was still too sexy for high school boys to handle. Perhaps my look from the day before left an imprint on their minds. It was like they were thinking, "Okay, so she is attractive when she wears revealing clothes. Good, that means I can try something." And try, they did. A handful of boys waved and called out a hello to me as the three of us walked to class that morning. I was on the campus almost a minute and the aftermath of the day before was already so obvious. I had foolishly labeled myself as "bangable and available."

It seemed to really bother Ian and Anthony, though they didn't tell me. It did seem like they were having a silent mental conversation with each other, but I didn't think I could exactly decipher it.

The day went on fairly smoothly, in spite of the gawking. Majority of it all, I was able to ignore. A few guys did talk to me, mostly just about schoolwork and things like that. I guess they all just thought they could try being friends with me and then when I trusted them, they would try jumping me. Again, high school is an insane place.  
And that's when it happened. Our second to last period, I was called over the loudspeakers to the main office. My heart stopped. I could think of only one reason I'd be called out on a day like that. My mother. Of course. She was possessive. She had ownership over me and needed to make sure I remembered that. Well, it wasn't going to work. I was an adult.

Even though I was trying to act tough, walking up to the main building, I couldn't deny the churn in my stomach had started to quicken. My muscles ached in anticipation. My fingers were shaking. I stuffed them into my pockets. Once inside the office, my eyes wandered, trying so desperately to not find my mother. I didn't want her to be there.

"Magdalene?" I spun. Principal Thomas was standing in the doorway of his office. "Come on in," he smiled. I did as he said, and breathed a sigh of relief as my mother was nowhere to be seen. He directed me to the stiff chair facing towards the window as he took his seat behind his desk. "So, Magdalene, is school going okay?" Small talk? He invited me here for small talk?

"Um, yeah, it's fine," I shrugged. "Is this what I'm here for, sir?"

"No, no," he shook his head and adjusted his thick glasses. "I called you in here to tell you we got a call from your brother's school." My heart stopped. "He's not there." She took him. I couldn't believe it.

"She- my mother removed him from class?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"No, it appears he never showed up to his homeroom period," he clarified. He never even made it to his first class? Where would he be? My mother couldn't have known exactly where we left to, and couldn't have just picked him up off the street. Maybe she waited at the school for him and picked him up there. There's no way she would be so childish. "I guess they tried calling your home, but the call wouldn't go through." Because it's disconnected.

"We've been having issues with our landlines recently," I lied. "So, no one knows where Barış is?"

"As of this moment, I haven't heard anything about him other than his absence," Mr. Thomas shook his head. "Do you know where he might be or what might have happened?" My mother might have happened.

"I-I don't know," I nervously gripped my jeans. "Maybe he felt sick and went back to the house. I was already gone by that time, I'm sure. But..." It just didn't seem right. "I just thought we would've found a way to let me know." Our neighbors were kind to us, surely they would have let him use their phone.

Something was wrong. He didn't show signs of illness when he left, in fact, he elected to jog to school. He wouldn't have wanted that if he was too sick to even stay there. And if he wanted to skip, he knows I probably would have allowed him a day off since the night before was so emotionally shaking for him. Unless...no. He wouldn't do that...

Oh god, he would! I stood quickly.

"Mr. Thomas," I cleared my throat, trying to not seem too urgent. "I'm sorry, but could I please have the rest of the day off to tend to my brother? I'm sure he's back home just sleeping, and my mother hasn't been feeling well either. I just feel like I should be there for them."

He seemed to think about it for few moments. Maybe he assumed I was lying. I was, but about what, neither of us could be positive. "I'll allow this pass, Ms. Dalkılıç. But I'll need some kind of a doctor's note or perhaps a call from your mother to ensure I can keep this absence excused."

"Thanks, Mr. Thomas!" I called out. I left a note at the front desk and dashed out the door. It must have been my lucky day because a city bus was about to drive away from the stop across the street.

"Wait!" I waved at the driver. He nodded at me, waiting a few more seconds for me to jog up the steps. I coughed up the fare and took a seat as close to the front as possible. I knew there was a bus stop not too far from by house, I'd just have to remember where it was.

I heard a soft, melodic hum beside me. I glanced over to see a young woman, maybe my age, staring out the window, headphones over her long, blonde hair. She seemed overly aware of herself and her surroundings. Her head immediately whipped over to see just who was staring, and upon locking eyes with me, I noticed she was crying.  
I didn't know what to do. Her public display of sorrow made me want to talk to her, maybe console her, but her blaring headphones made me think she was shutting the world out, purposely. All I could think of to do in that moment was smile as understandingly as possible. She returned it weakly before gazing back out the window.

Finally, the street I was looking for. I reached up and pulled the signal string to alert the driver to stop. I smiled once more to the sad girl before dashing off the bus, and in the direction of my home.

I had jogged all the way to the front of the yard, and was stopped dead in my tracks when I realized my mother's car was gone, and the front door was opened. I took a few moments to examine the possibilities and gather my breath.

"Hello, Mag!" I heard from the neighboring garage. I adjusted my gaze to fix on Mrs. Turniack. "How are you today?" She was about to start clipping the flower bushes in her yard.

"I-" I took a second to breathe, not make it seem like I was panicking. "I'm great, Mrs. Turniack. And yourself?"

"Wonderful, hun," she replied, looking up. "Isn't it just a beautiful day for the winter season?"

She was right. Though the air had just the slightest bite to it, the sun was out, and the day was clear. "It is," I agreed. "I have to ask, did you see my brother come home, or perhaps, my mother leave?"

"No, dear, I can't say I did," she shook her head, her pretty, silver hair flowing with her movements, "But I wasn't exactly looking. Did you help finding them?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Turniack," I declined. "I'll let you know if I do." She nodded, gathering her gardening gloves. To avoid further suspicion, I nonchalantly stepped through the yard, to the entrance. The door being slightly ajar set me on edge. I didn't know what to think.

My mother wouldn't just leave the house at random. She was bedridden, and unmotivated. Also, if Barış had come back to the house on his own, it wouldn't have been to leave the house unlocked and unattended, and steal a car he doesn't know how to drive.

In spite of the fear in my chest, I pushed my way into the house, which seemed both very familiar and very foreign to me. I couldn't place my finger on it, but something didn't feel right when I stepped inside. My eyes caught a black lump sitting on the couch, and once I realized it was Barış' backpack, I became even more anxious.  
"Barış?" I asked loudly. Silence. "Barış!" I called out louder. The lack of sound was more terrifying than if a stranger had been there to fill it. My feet couldn't slow to a comfortable place as I searched the rooms for my brother. He was nowhere to be found.

He wasn't at school. He wasn't at home. There were two possibilities. Either he went back to Ian's house and stayed there, or he was on the streets. Since I hadn't received a call or message that he was safe, I assumed the worst. He was running. But from what?

Or perhaps he wasn't running, but instead was taken. My mother might've been unmotivated, but I was harsh to her the night before. She may very well have found the strength she needed to move on to better things just to spite me. I couldn't rule it out as a possibility.

I made my way to the dark part of the house, expecting my mother's door to be closed like always.

It wasn't.

The light in her room was turned on, which was even more scary. Nothing about that day was normal. Everything was wrong, and out of order. Something happened.

"Mom?" I squeaked. No answer. No speaking. No shuffling. No breathing. She left? She really did take him. My heart sank down to my toes. How could she so that? The years of emotional abandonment, and she finally decided right then was a good time to physically abandon me. It was both believable and unbelievable at the same time.  
I sighed, pushing the heavy door out of my way, noticing a figure on the bed.

And then everything was black.


	6. Loved

The sounds of the police station filled my ears. An officer was trying to say something to me, but I couldn't hear him. I wouldn't hear him. He placed a hand on my shoulder and I realized I'd had my eyes closed. He was trying to hand me a mug. Coffee. Henson, his nametag read. I nodded and he walked away again.

I placed the porcelain mug next to the full paper cup of water on his desk. It was a sad group of neglected beverages.

There was a blanket draped over my shoulders, but it wasn't keeping me warm. I almost hadn't noticed it, except the officer who tried talking to me kept wrapping it tighter around my arms. I guess he was trying to comfort me. Maybe he thought it would get me talking.  
I tried. I tried asking him where my brother was and where my friends were, but words continued to evade me. I could think them, but I couldn't open my mouth to form them. Like a child.

The sounds of the station were both annoying and intoxicating. The constant click-clacking of fingertips on keyboards. The ring-ring every few seconds of phones going off everywhere. The chatter and rustling of papers back and forth from each person. I could see how a lifestyle like this could be hell for one person, and heaven for the next.

A hand on my shoulder again. I snapped my eyes open to see his mouth moving. It was like my ears were full of water. Slowly, the station's various noises flowed out of my ears and Henson's voice filled them.

"... someone here for you," he murmured. "She's going to take you somewhere safe to sleep tonight, alright?" I looked passed him. Mrs. Hecox was standing in the doorway, smiling sympathetically at me. I stood. "I'm going to give you my desk number and extension," he was writing down on a small card, "so if you find yourself ready to talk, or if something happens, you call me. I'll help you however I can."

My shaking fingers accepted the notecard from him, and I clenched it in my fist. He directed me with a hand on my back to Ian's mother. She greeted me as warmly as she could, but it was evident in her eyes that she was crying before she came. I didn't respond to her.

"She's in a bit of a shock, right now," Henson explained for me. "It's hard to say when she'll come back out of it. It's different for everyone." Is that what that monotone lack of feeling in my body was? Shock? "I do recommend rest, however, it's also a good idea to keep talking to her. If she's around people she trusts, she might have an easier time snapping out of it." Mrs. Hecox tried talking with me, but I think seeing me in a whole new state caused her words to falter. She didn't know how to make one sided conversation.

"Ian and Anthony are at the house," she told me. "If you want to be alone for the night, I will have them let you rest, but I do agree with that officer. Being with the people you trust could help you. That, and the boys are worried sick. They care a lot about you. Why, Ian couldn't sit still and begged me to bring him with me to come pick you up."

I closed my eyes. Picturing Ian and Anthony on the edge of their seats, wondering where I was and if I was okay... It cause a ripple of pain and love to shake my body, almost shattering me. It wasn't until just then, I realized how dead I was. I was a lifeless body, existing purely to be numb. But when I thought of my two best friends, it was like someone had charged up the paddles and laid them against my chest, trying to bring me back to life.  
I wanted more of that feeling.

"Now, let me go prepare the boys real quick," Mrs. Hecox touched my arm. "Wait right here for a moment. I'll be right back." I almost didn't even notice she left me in the car, except that was the first time I had heard genuine silence since after my blackout. A slight relief washed over me. Silence. It felt good. My mind had been trying to fabricate quiet through all the shouting, talking, and noise, but had been unsuccessful. Finally, it didn't have to work to get a little peace. I could take a few moments to breathe.

Though, it didn't last long. The silence was great, but the still-stale feeling in my body was aggravating. I wanted to feel...something. My tired mind was scrambling for a thought that made me feel something. Mrs. Hecox couldn't have been taking longer to get back to the car. It was a bad idea to leave me with only myself.

She finally came back to get me just a few minutes later. She helped me out of the car and guided me to the house, though I didn't need it. As soon as the door opened, two thin, long arms were around me. Maybe if I wasn't so stale, I would've gasped out of surprise.

"Maggie," Anthony breathed, relieved. I allowed my body to sink into his embrace, feeling like I could loosen my muscles. I rested my head against his chest. He smelled so good.

That love-pain shot through my figure again, and I almost smiled.

"Mag," Ian sighed, rubbing my back. His eyes looked red and irritated. "We're so glad you're okay."

"Boys, give her a little room to breathe," Mrs. Hecox ordered. She looked exhausted, like she had been awake for two days. I imagined she was taking this hard. She and my mother were friends when I was really little. Not terribly close, but it was a comfortable relationship. Then, my mom disappeared from the public eye, and Mrs. Hecox couldn't even get a word about it from me.

Yes, she must have been mourning, though she was doing a great job of setting that hurt aside to tend to the kids. She gathered all the extra blankets in the house and brought them to Ian's bedroom. The air mattress had been blown back up to original size and was made up like a little bed. I appreciated the effort, though I didn't express it.

"Goodnight," Mrs. Hecox weakly smiled before closing the door. I didn't want to undress or get into anything comfortable, so I simply flopped onto the air bed and shut my eyes. Sleep was very elusive.

"Dude, I can't believe this is happening," Anthony whispered on Ian's bed. When I opened my eyes, the room was dark, causing me to wonder how long I had been laying there. "Like, I never imagined her mom would do that."

"I know," Ian agreed. "It's insane she would do that to her kids." He sighed. "And now her brother is gone. Who knows where he could be?"

I immediately pictured my brother. He was so sweet and loving and strong and fast. He had so much potential to do great things. If he was alive, he'd probably never make it anywhere big like he could have. Or he was...dead.

No, I'm not thinking about this right now. They need to stop talking, and I need to sleep.

The boys heard me shifting on the bed and silenced themselves immediately. I got on my feet and slowly reached out, trying to find Anthony's arm. Instead I placed my hand on his chest, and the feeling shocked him before he touched my wrist and asked, "Maggie? You okay?"

I didn't answer. I didn't know how. As a replacement for words, I let out a shaky breath. I didn't know what it was supposed to translate to for them, but to me, it was a revealing demand.

"Do you want to sleep up here with us?" Ian guessed. It was a bit surprising one of them correctly assumed the answer, but then I remembered sleeping with Ian the night before, and he must have known it was more comfortable that way.

To answer, I tapped Anthony's chest with my shaking fingers. "Yeah, I think she does," he told Ian for me. I heard the boys scoot to provide space for me, and soon Anthony had gently placed his hands on my waist to guide me over him. The boys decided I would sleep between them, which I also preferred. Anthony laid behind me with his hand on my shoulder, until I grasped at his fingers and pulled his arm to be over my waist. It was easier to feel him that way. My other hand found Ian's, much like the night before, and we slept facing each other, our hands clasped.

It was so perfect and comfortable... I don't know. I just started to cry. Maybe it was the feeling of finally being able to let my guard down, or perhaps it was the love-pain flowing over and over through my body. It felt so good to simply feel. As my body wracked with sobs, the boys both squeezed. It was the only way they could think to comfort me in that moment.

And it was enough. They didn't have to do anything else, but they felt they did.

"We love you, Mag," Ian murmured, touching his forehead to mine.

"We do," Anthony added behind me before burying his face in my hair.

I wanted to return it. I wanted to tell them about the love I held deep in my heart for both of them. It was important they knew, but the words were all lost. It's like my life was just a pile of old letters I no longer knew how to use. I could only squeeze in response.

Maybe that was enough.

I didn't return to school for almost a month. I locked myself in Ian's bedroom, leaving only for food and to use the bathroom. Mrs. Hecox and the boys tried coaxing me out, but I wouldn't budge. I didn't feel ready. My muscles still shook, and my heart was still missing a piece. How could I face the world?

Words could only elude me for so long. As the days slugged by, the letters started forming into small, simple fragments. Enough to answer questions. After two weeks, I tried to practice speaking again. The police station held the same odd stench as my last visit there.

Officer Henson told me not to rush myself. I could talk to him when I was ready. But it felt like if I dragged the process out, I'd never go through with it. Ian's mother drove me to the police station, telling me how proud she was of me for being so strong.

"You sure you're ready?" Officer Henson asked once more. "I simply want you to consider your mental health." I understood, and appreciated his concern. I nodded my head.  
The session went as I assumed it would. I fumbled over my words as he asked me questions about that night.

"This one won't be easy," Henson warned. "What did you see when you walked into the room?" Up until that point, I'd blocked the image from my mind. I didn't remember anything from walking into my mother's bedroom all the way to being sat down at the police station on that same night. It was like I couldn't picture it, but I knew what had happened.

"The lights were on," I began, hoarse. "She was on top of the covers. She..." I swallowed and felt my dry throat close up. I was losing words again. "Sh..." The letters were trying to run away, trying to avoid be told. "...I..." I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers gripped the fabric of my jeans.

Officer Henson tried telling me to stop and give myself time, but I felt like if I didn't get the words out of me right then, they'd never be spoken.

"Four needles in her arm," I whimpered, the words continuing to dissipate. "Her eyes, open. D- She was dead!" I sighed painfully as I could feel my body throb. The pain I felt at that moment wasn't enjoyable, however. There was no love in the mixture, therefore, all it did was hurt.

Henson told me that was enough for that session, and to call him if I remembered anything relevant. I hoped they'd call me if they found anything on my brother, but I was too disoriented to ask directly.

Once we returned to the house, I declined Mrs. Hecox's offer to make me lunch, and went straight up to the bedroom. The hurt from the police station was still ringing through my ears and my bones. All the hairs on my body were standing straight up, and my muscles felt as though I had worked them to their limit, though I hadn't been using them like I could.

I changed and curled up into Ian's bed, making sure to only take up one side. I could still smell him and Anthony in the sheets, and it instantly calmed me, lulling me off to sleep.

\-----

"Are you sure you're ready, Mag?" Ian asked me for the third time that morning. "People might act weird around you. They'll either want to stare at you or they'll actually come up and offer their condolences."

"Yeah," I answered, weakly. My throat was going to take some work. I spoke, but only to Ian and Anthony, really. Because of that, my voice was timid and wavered. Talking would take some getting used to.

Anthony arrived to take us to school, and Ian told me to sit up front. I'd decided I couldn't lock myself up in his room forever. At some point, I'd have to leave for something. I knew the longer I waited, the more difficult it would be. No more waiting; I was thrusting myself back out into the world. Either, I'd fall flat on my face, or I'd be okay. It was hard to tell which instance was going to happen. I also didn't want to ruin my high school career right at the cusp of graduation. There was only two months left, and I'd worked too hard to just give up then.

"I think the office has all the work you missed out on," Anthony explained. "Principal Thomas excused you from most of it, but we'll help you through the stuff you still have to do." I appreciated that the school faculty was understanding about my circumstances. I was willing to make up everything, which I knew would be hard, but hearing they gave me some leeway for my grief, I huge wave of relief washed over me.

Ian was right. As soon as the three of us stepped onto campus, people saw me, and couldn't look away. Word got around, quickly. It seemed like every time I turned a corner, I interrupted a small group of people who were talking about me. I wasn't a super popular person, but I was well known throughout the school. And of course, teenagers are notorious for their inability to keep their mouths shut, so I was the talk of the day.

I kept to myself, and stuck with my boys, not offering conversation to anyone, except a little one with Cindy. Other kids did come up and tell me how sorry they were for my loss, and I would thank them and curl a bit closer to my friends.

Things were different between the boys and me. After that initial night when we all slept together, we continued doing that for all the next nights. It was so subtle, we hardly noticed it, but a barrier was ripped down between the three of us, and physical contact wasn't something to think about. Taking comfort in one another became second nature, whether it was simply scooting closer, or holding hands, or locking arms... It just felt right with them. I wondered if that was another thing people noticed and we're talking about.

"We're going out tonight," Anthony brushed my shoulder with his. I gazed up at him, and he was smiling. I looked for his eyes, and though it was a bit of a search behind his long, dark hair, I found them, eagerly awaiting a reaction from me.

"T-tonight?" I stammered. I didn't want to be out any longer than I had to. I'd have much rather just have been at the house.

"It'll be fun," Ian chimed in, adjusting himself in the seat on the other side of me. "Besides, we have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" I furrowed my brow at him. "It's surprising enough you want me to go out and do things."

"But the payoff will be worth it," he chuckled. "Trust me, you'll be speechless." I believed him about that because I knew it wouldn't take much to get my mouth to clamp shut. The words I was able to speak were so delicate, like any more trauma, I might lose them forever, and I'd never speak again.

Before we left at the end of the day, I stopped by the office to grab the packet of make-up work I had. I decided it would be a courteous choice to talk to the principal and thank him for excusing me. I asked the secretary if I could speak to him, and she quickly strode to his door, peeking her head in. She turned back, nodding and gesturing me to the door.

"Ah, Ms. Dalkılıç," he greeted me, pronouncing my last name wrong with a soft smile. "I was hoping you'd come by my office. I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Mm, I'm okay," I answered simply.

"The other students didn't bother too much, did they?"

"Oh, no," I shook my head. "They were very polite and well behaved about it, I guess. Mostly, I just tried avoiding them altogether. Just stayed with my buddies."

"Right, Mr. Hecox and Mr. Padilla, correct?" He asked. I nodded. "Well, I'm glad you had such good friends to help you through this time. I've had early deaths in my family, but it was never someone on whom my entire life relied on, so I can only imagine your grief."

"It's not easy," I shuffled my toes. "But I do really appreciate this, Mr. Thomas." I lifted the envelope of work. "I know this thing should be three inches thicker, so I seriously thank you for allowing some assignments to go excused."

"Principals aren't all rules and suspension slips," he smiled. "Anything else I can do to help you, Magdalene, let me know." I nodded and stepped out of his office, feeling a bit better about everything. I had more support than I thought I would.

\-----

"Eat something, Maggie," Anthony demanded, annoyed. The boys brought me to a small corner restaurant downtown, and I had simply ordered a coffee while they ordered full meals. At the mention of food, my stomach churned, hard. I hadn't been eating well since even before my mother's death. We had very little food in our home, and I didn't get hardly any of it. It just seemed like my stomach shrank, and if I continued to not eat, I'd never have to.

"I'm really not hungry," I murmured, feeling guilty. They took the effort to plan that night out together and take me out for dinner, and I was rejecting their offers.

"That's because you just don't eat," Ian stated, truthfully. He sounded almost bitter. I assumed he was put off by how rude I was being. Like I was throwing their generosity in their faces.

"I'm sorry..." I mumbled, suddenly uncomfortable. Immediately, I chastised myself for being so rude.

"No," Ian sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not upset with you, Mag." He gently place his hand on my knee. "I just get frustrated thinking about how selfless you've been all this time, and...how it's done serious damage to your health." I thought that was so sweet.

"We really do care about you, Maggie," Anthony added softly, reaching over to touch my arm. I could have started crying. The love the three of us shared seemed magical and almost visible, whimsically floating around us. I didn't want the night to end.

I agreed to try and eat something, though I knew anything I ordered would be thrown into a box to probably never be touched. But I tried for them.

With stretched bellies, we piled into Anthony's car again. I expected him to pull left out of the restaurant driveway, but he went right.

"Uhm, where are we going?" I asked, not really knowing what would be of value to us going that direction.

"It's time for the surprises," Anthony grinned, turning into a neighborhood. I assumed he was cutting through it, trying to get to the real place a little faster.

A few minutes later, Ian spoke up from the backseat. "Actually, dude, pull over. We got to tell her now." I was becoming nervous. Ian seemed so anxious to get his words out, but was he excited to tell me, or did he feel as though he just had to get it over with? Anthony stopped the car in front of a random house, got out and rushed around to help me out as well.

"Is this going to be, like, a bad surprise?" I asked, nervously tugging the sleeves of my shirt.

"No, Mag," Ian laughed, "Stop freaking out." I was leaned up against the car, and the boys stood in front of me. "Well," he began, "it doesn't pay the best, and the hours will be really lame until school's out, but... I got a job."

"Oh, Ian, that's great news!" I smiled, and pulled him towards me, embracing him. "I can't believe you guys got me all nervous for this."

"We're still nervous," Ian laughed, muffled by my hair. "That's not all." He let me go, and looked at Anthony, who seemed really anxious. His feet were tapping the cement.

"Yeah, uhm," he shifted a bit, "Well, we...we know you're going through something terrible right now, and we want to help a much as we can. You can say no," he reminded me. "But...if you didn't want to go back home, you could...come live with us." The boys both stood back, making my eyes adjust to something more distant. A house.

It wasn't just a random place to park and talk. They wanted to show me the house they bought. The house they always talked about living in together, and what I thought would always be a hypothetical place. They actually bought it. The sign in the yard said "SOLD" in big, red letters.

"Really?" I asked, still shocked. The boys nodded. "You...actually bought this?"

"My mom helped, of course," Ian commented.

"And you really want me to come with you guys?"

"Yes, Maggie," Anthony laughed like it was a silly thing for me to say. "We love you, and we want to take care of you." I could feel my muscles tremble and my eyes begin to burn. The moment seemed so surreal, and suddenly, I was panicking, thinking it was all a dream.

"I...am I dreaming," I asked, squeezing my eyes shut. "Right now, is this just a dream? You'd tell me, right?"

"Y-yeah, we'd tell you," Ian answered, uneasy. "It's not a dream, Mag. We really mean this."

Imagining all the time we would spend together in that house was making my eyes water. I was imagining never having to go a day without either of the boys, and being able to be with them without worry of greater responsibilities.

Yes, my brother would always be there, in the back of my mind, but my week of solitude got me thinking. What my brother saw...he didn't trust me to comfort him through it. He didn't trust anyone to help him; he just ran. How would I be of any use to him when I hadn't the slightest clue of where to start looking? He would have to come to me when he was ready, and I was simply going to have to wait.

While I was waiting, I could be happy, couldn't I?

"Mag-"

"Yes," I blurted out. It was silent for a few moments.

"Yes?" Anthony repeated.

"You really want to come with us?" Ian elaborated the question.

"Yeah, I do," I smiled. "I don't think I could keep doing this without the both of you." The shared a quick glance at each other before they both attacked me with a giant hug. They were thanking me, telling me how excited they were, and telling me how much they cared. I couldn't hold it back anymore. I started crying, but this time they were happy tears.

I would never be unhappy with both Ian and Anthony at my sides.


	7. Moved

"Mag!" Ian was trying to get my attention as he shook me. "Mag, you have to wake up, babe." As my mind registered what my ears had just heard, I felt my skin go flush, burning. When I agreed to move in with the boys, they both began using pet names with me, and every single time they did it, my skin would heat up and my muscles would jolt. I felt a chuckle from Ian's chest. "I know you're awake now," I heard the smile in his voice, "You're blushing."

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands and rolling away from him, ending on my stomach. It annoyed and embarrassed me that my body couldn't lie. My emotions couldn't just do me a solid every once in a while and not make me cherry.

"C'mon, don't be like that," the young man coaxed, trying to pull me to roll back. "Don't be embarrassed about that." The way he said it made it sound like I had other reasons to feel silly, and I couldn't stop myself from getting too curious.

"About _that_?" I croaked, barely lifting my head from the pillow. "Should I be embarrassed about something else?"

"I...no," he scoffed, like it was an absurd question. "Why would you think that?" He shoved his hands under his head, trying to seem nonchalant.

I sighed, "Because I know I talk in my sleep, and it's always really mortifying."

"Then why would you want me to repeat it?" He laughed, looking at me. It took me just a couple moments to respond; I wanted to take just a little bit of time to examine Ian's pretty, blue eyes. Although, I didn't want to seem weird or anything, so I continued.

"Uh, just call me a masochist," I shrugged, brushing my tangled hair out of my eyes. "Just tell me."

He shook his head, trying to make his grin go away. "Well, I thought you'd woken up because you grabbed my arm and were like, 'Ian, you don't understand.' I asked what the problem was and you said something along the lines of, 'I can't pretend anymore, and neither can you.' And uhm..." Then, it was his turn to blush, bright, bright red, in fact. He abandoned eye contact with me, rubbing his face in his palms.

" _Ugh_!" I hid my face again. My temperature was sky-rocketing. "Just...do I want to know the rest?"

His body moved with his laughter. He uncovered his new, strawberry face, "No, I don't think you do. Not unless you want to explode with embarrassment."

"Right, spare me then," I curled back into the blankets, hoping to fall back to sleep.  
"What are you doing?" Ian asked like it was a mystery.

"Uhm, sleeping, obviously," I mumbled into the pillow. My muscles started to relax back into a resting state, and that fog of unconsciousness was rolling in off in the distance.

"I'll let you sleep for another hour, but then we have to get ready," he warned. I mumbled something about how he could certainly try and get me up. He scoffed before I grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to me. "Good to know we've reached the spooning part of our friendship," he joked, though in my grogginess, I could sense unease.

I mustered up all the energy I could to respond. "If it makes you uncomfortable..."

"I'm not going anywhere," he cut me off, snuggling a bit closer. I smiled, drifting off to sleep.

\-----

I regained consciousness before Ian. It had been almost an hour since we fell asleep, yet I was suddenly wide awake. That was the first time I'd woken up that way in years. Typically, I was awoken by my dreams, or by other people who were trying to get me out of my dreams. It had been a long time since I comfortably and peacefully woke up.

I wondered if part of the reason was Ian. He was curled behind me, his heavy arm like a warm, protecting seat-belt. I just felt...content. I turned over to lay on my back since my arm and side were hurting. Ian stirred a bit, but didn't fully wake. I took a little time to examine our situation.

Ever since that initial night when Ian invited me to sleep in his bed, it seemed like we had become much closer. Granted, I had been through a horrifying experience, and I was going to latch onto someone. But especially after the night the boys told me they loved me, it just felt like our friendship had completely changed. I hoped it was for good, but it was beginning to feel like a three-way relationship. Like, I belonged to both Anthony and Ian, and I didn't know if that was healthy or not.

What were we going to expect from each other out of the relationship? Certainly, someone would get jealous. It was bound to happen; that's just human nature. People would rather be their loved one's one and only, or not at all. If we kept this up, I'd have to be concerned for the love and attention of two young men, and I'd be afraid they'd get competitive over me.

I closed my eyes. What if all those barriers we tore down together were there for an important reason? At any rate, it was too late, and I would soon figure out just how far the boys were willing to go to get my affection.

I hoped it wouldn't lead to anything sexual trying to be done between the three of us. The thought scared me. Yeah, Anthony and me kissing as children was one thing, but it was so innocent and calculating; we weren't trying to become overly involved in something we didn't understand. Sex would make the situation messy and complicated.

My mind wandered to the dream I'd had nights ago, which wasn't hard since, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I'd told Ian vaguely about it, but I didn't tell him the craziest part. Ian was, I think, a werewolf, but Anthony was something else, like, I don't know. He didn't seem physically different, but I knew he had power; I just didn't know what that power was. Upon the three of us finding this all out, it caused the boys to start becoming enemies. They were fighting, yelling about how the other was putting me in danger by simply being there. They were demanding each other to leave, or else...

I couldn't stand to see either of them go, and I was crying out, "I don't care if you're beasts!" They stopped and stared at me. "I need both of you. If I lose one of you, I'm incomplete." They took a few moments to look at one another, maybe have a mental conversation with each other. "Please," I whispered.

I felt a heavy fog lift from the room, and both men strode towards me, sitting on either side of me.

"We're not going anywhere," Anthony assured me, pulling my chin to kiss him. Ian agreed softly, brushing my hair out of the way, and kissing my neck. His breath tickled me. I realized, I wasn't doing anything, so I lightly cupped Anthony's face, and grabbed Ian's hand.

"We will stay with you, if you still want us," Ian whispered. I turned to him, his blue eyes almost piercing me. I was trying to find a response, but those damn words kept trying to get away.

"Do you want us, Maggie?" Anthony asked, placing a hand on my leg, his thumb lightly caressing my thigh. It was making me feel drunk. I was intoxicated by their breath, their touch, their voices. Hell, I was probably just inebriated by their presence.

"I..." I sighed, feeling Ian's fingers grazing my neck. "I want you." Both the men's touches seemed to become stronger and their breathing intensified.

"Maggie," Anthony quietly moaned as my fingers wound in his long hair. I found Ian's lips, and kissed him roughly, trying to hold back too much excitement. He pulled away to breathe, and I could feel his heart pounding fast.

"Mag," he whispered. "You need..." I waited for more words, but they didn't come. He was silent, simply staring into my eyes, like he was trying to find something.

"Yes?" I gasped as Anthony's breath tickled my ear.

"Never-mind," Ian blinked a couple times. He leaned towards me again, kissing me softly, romantically. "I love you." The words sent a wild wave through my body. And then, I shivered, realizing he had left me, and Anthony was gone as well.

I woke up with a gasp, shooting upright, and landing back on my elbows. I was afraid I'd startled Ian, but he wasn't beside me anymore. He got up already. I hadn't intended to fall back to sleep again, but as I was thinking about that dream, I passed out and started it right back where I left off.

It was like my body could still feel the pressure of their strong hands, and the wave from Ian's "I love you" was still washing through me. I rubbed my eyes. That was why I didn't tell him the whole dream. I was embarrassed my mind was fabricating a time where I had both Ian and Anthony kissing me and touching me at the same time. I didn't think it was a normal thing to imagine.

I flipped my legs over the bed, realizing there was a delicious smell wafting around me. It smelled like food. There was a knock and the bedroom door opened. Ian peeked inside before setting his body halfway through the door.

"Finally awake?" He smiled. I found myself trying to live halfway in the current moment, and halfway in the dream I'd just experienced. As I looked into his eyes, I got that piercing feeling from my dream, and that wild wave was starting through me again. I closed my eyes and shook my head. I had to stop thinking about it.

"Yeah," I answered, "I woke up a little before you, but then I passed out again." I hoped I had quietly dreamed this time around. It would be so embarrassing if Ian had heard every bit of that one. But he seemed to act pretty normal like he hadn't caught me having some kind of weird fantasy, so I assumed I was in the clear.

"Sounds about right," he laughed. "Well, come on. Mom made food." That explained how amazing the house smelled. And suddenly, my stomach growled loud, causing Ian to laugh, almost dropping the biscuit he had in his hand. "You obviously need it," he chuckled.

"I do," I laughed. "I'll be out in a just a minute." He shut the door, and I began searching through my bag for something to write on. I just needed to get the dream out of my head. Maybe then I'd stop thinking about it.

I found a pen on Ian's desk, and quickly scrawled out everything I remembered. Maybe it would help.

Mrs. Hecox made a huge feast for us. Eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and biscuits. I had never seen so much food at one time, and my belly eagerly growled, demanding to be filled. Anthony showed up not too long after I woke up to join us. The backseat of his car was filled with boxes, and I imagined his trunk looked the same; it was moving day.

"Think I have pretty much all my stuff," Anthony explained, still chewing through a mouthful of pancakes, "So, we'll drop that off, Ian can get his stuff together, we come back and get all that over to the new place, and then we'll go for your things, Maggie." My things. I was, to say the least, dreading going back home. It had been close to a month, and I still wasn't sure I could handle it, seeing all those rooms again. Only this time, the rooms would be vacant.

After overfilling my stomach with the generous helpings of breakfast, I trudged back to Ian's bedroom to quickly change out of my pajamas. The last of my clean clothes were a tee and the shortest shorts I owned. I was so grateful I'd inherited my father's Turkish skin. There were many things I'd taken from my mother like her cheek bones, her strong jaw, her thick body build, her blue eyes, and that deep, subtle rasp she had in her voice. All those traits definitely made me my mother's daughter, but the few things that made me my father's daughter were the large, heavy shape of my eyes, the dark, thick head of hair, and the natural brown-olive color to my skin.

I remember when I was really young, before my father left, I was jealous of my mother's perfect, fair, pale skin. I thought it was entirely gorgeous compared to my darker tones, but she was quick to tell me otherwise. She told me no matter how many shades darker or lighter my skin was compared to anyone else's, it would always be perfect. That was probably the closest thing we ever had to a mother-daughter moment. The older I got, the more I grew to love my skin. I had very light pockets of freckles all over my body, and I found tanning to be a breeze. My body was almost all one shade, so wearing tank tops and shorts didn't mean I had to feel embarrassed about odd, little tan lines.

The only issue with my skin was the fact that scars showed up very easily. The white, tissue-build-up of nasty scars was obvious compared to my darker tones. Not to say I had a lot of scars. There were the few shiny patches here and there from being clumsy, or playing when I was little, and those weren't the issue.

There was a time, before the death of my mother and disappearance of my baby brother that I hit rock bottom. I remember, it was when Anthony left the state for the summer to visit family or something. Ian had schooling and other things to do. I was just...lonely. I'd heard of ways for people to cope, and one that caught my attention was something called "cutting." It didn't appeal to me because I'd figured it would work; rather, I thought it was crazy. How could tearing down your precious gifted temple heal your heart in any way?

But, I was so lost without Baba. I had so many responsibilities placed on my shoulders when I should have just been playing in the dirt, I just didn't know what to do with myself. I felt like a kettle, boiling; I'd reached my limit long ago, but no one would take me off the burner. I was left to whistle the pressure away, feeling like I was about to melt. I didn't know how to help myself. I didn't want to drink. I certainly wasn't going to follow my mother down the path of bad, chemical highs. Maybe there was a point to the cutting thing...

I tried it only once. I found an extra ladies' razor, and realized I could pop any of the three blades out of it. Though it took some finesse, I got a little, metal piece out, bending and cracking it in the process. In spite of the imperfection, I decided to use it anyways. A cut was a cut.

My thigh would be the easiest place to hide that wasn't as sensitive as my stomach. I moved my arm swiftly, not wanting to perform a long, drawn out surgery.

Swipe! For a few moments, I didn't feel anything, and wondered if I had done it wrong; however, the pain soon rushed to the gash, and I couldn't hold back my wince. I applied pressure around the cut, not wanting to get blood everywhere. I assumed it had cut so wide because the blade had a crook in the middle of it. And then, I felt it... It was like my entire body just sighed, and pressure had been released through the rip in my leg. I got lightheaded, my limbs were weak, and my lungs could breathe easy. How was it happening?

The feeling didn't last. Soon, the euphoria had lifted, and I was left with a bleeding leg, a few blades, and pain. I started crying at how my skin was burning and stinging. Maybe I couldn't just stop at one?

I created more slashes, adding up to seven wide, bloody wounds on my thigh. The fogginess and drowsiness lasted much longer, but it wasn't going to last forever. I wrapped my leg up with a shirt and tied it tight, falling asleep soundly, thinking I'd mastered the act of self-help. When I awoke in the morning, the stinging made me cry again. I writhed on my bed for a long time, wondering why I had done this horrible thing to myself. The rush was amazing, but it didn't last long enough to justify the pain. I had made a huge mistake.

The shorts I wore on moving day covered up majority of the mess, but of course, couldn't cover it all. I told the boys about it sometime during the following school year, and their reactions were like a mixing pot of confusion, disappointment, anger, and pain. We never talked about it after that, and I never tried it again. It was a mistake from the past that never needed to be brought up because I had definitely learned my lesson, and it wouldn't be worth it to dwell on.

"Maggie?" Anthony knocked.

"You can open it," I called out, tying my shoelaces, and adding. "I'm ready."

"You and me are going to take all my stuff over to the new place, and Ian'll be here, finishing packing," he told me. "There's only room in the car for two anyways," he laughed.  
He was right. Due to his poor packing skills, and his unmatched ability to find awkwardly sized boxes, there was next to no room for us, and I had to grip a mountain of items between us to keep it from falling.

"Right," he sighed, rubbing his hands together, "You ready for a quick tour?" I nodded, crawling out of the car. He unlocked the front door, giddily. The wide grin on his face was contagious, and I felt my lips start to pull in either direction with ease. Seeing him happy made me happy.

"Entry room," he presented it to me with his arms spread wide. I giggled at how silly he was being. "Living room, which is pretty decently sized, by the way. Kitchen. Oh, this is actually kind of nice," he commented on the countertops, "Let's see," he hummed, pushing a door open. "Bathroom, closet. Bedrooms." He pointed to the doors on either side of the 'T' hallway. "And this," he opened up the center door in front of us, "Can be your room."

It wasn't originally thought to be a bedroom. It was the computer room they were telling me about; it was obvious from the awkward shape of it. The room was meant as an office space, not a frequent living space.

"But...but this is where you were supposed to be working," I felt my arms fold by themselves in discomfort. "I couldn't possibly take this room from you guys."

"You're not taking anything," he rolled his eyes at me. "We're giving it to you." The thought suddenly brought tears to my eyes, and caused a small tsunami of guilt over my bones. A room to call my own? "What's wrong?" Anthony cranked his neck to meet my eyes.

"My own room," I whispered.

"Yeah," he confirmed, a bit confused. "If you want it." Did I want it? Certainly, the thought of the boys giving the room to me filled me with appreciation and love, but thinking about it then... Sleeping alone sound terrifying.

Never in my life, since Barış was born, had I slept by myself. I was always in the same bed or room as someone else, and that was something to which I grew very accustomed. How would I sleep without being able to feel a presence in the room with me, or hearing a person's breathing become labored as they drifted off to sleep? How would I sleep in that kind of silence? I was afraid I wouldn't.

Still, I couldn't be expected to be a child forever. At some point, I would have to sleep alone, and it may as well have started then. I had no mother or father to tuck me in at night, and no brother to tend to for bed. I only had to worry about me, for the most part. And the fact that the boys were giving me such an opportunity to grow up and leave behind the petty traits I hung onto was heartwarming.

"Thank you," I whispered, reaching out to Anthony. He caught me, returning the embrace. I wasn't sure he knew precisely why I was so emotional, but he knew enough to not have to ask. "This means so much you two would do this for me."

"You mean so much to us, Maggie," he countered, a smile in his voice. I already knew that, but hearing it again sent a surge of sparks up my spine. The feeling was becoming addicting.

\-----

"We can make more than one trip, if we need to,"Anthony assured me, driving that familiar route.

"I doubt it'll come to that," I murmured. There wasn't really much talking on the drive; the boys could tell I was anxious. Seeing the house again, empty and lifeless, filled me with terror. What would it be like to walk in with no one there to greet or not greet me. Even when I received no "hello" upon my arrival, I could still feel a presence in that place. My body shivered, knowing I'd never feel that again.

As we turned down the proper street, I noticed that even though my life felt dark and stationary, the rest of the world went on living. The streets and sidewalks were picked up for any garbage, and Mrs. Turniack's front garden had very recently been worked through. The street looked pristine and even felt fake. It was too damn perfect. No street could be this happy when such a horrific thing had happened right next door.

I knew my mind was playing tricks on me, but it almost looked like the rest of the homes were beaming and bright, yet my house looked like a dark veil was covering it. Even the building was in mourning over the death of a mother, the death of a family.

My stomach churned, slowly, painfully. I couldn't breathe, I was so scared of walking into that place. I wanted the car to drive past; I didn't want to stop. But we did. We pulled into the driveway that should've had my mother's car parked in it, and we sat silently until one of them spoke up, noticing my condition.

"Mag," Ian put a hand on my shoulder from the backseat, "We don't have to do this today, if you're not ready." My fingers were busy playing with a loose string from the hem of my shorts as I was just trying to get myself to breathe.

"Except, it seems like if we don't do this now, we never will," Anthony murmured. He wasn't trying to rush me; he just knew how stubborn I could be. I might've never gotten up the courage to come back here again.

I didn't know what would be better: riding out the fear until it became too hard to come here again, or just getting the pain over with like ripping off a band-aide. My mental inventory of the things I wanted to bring with me was a short list, and it wouldn't take us forever to gather it all. Anthony was probably right. We almost certainly never return to that place if we left with nothing.

I didn't say anything as I pushed the passenger door out of my way.

The house smelt stuffy and still. Dust covered every surface. Everything in the front room was left just as I remembered, except for errant marks and dents in the carpet where all the strangers were walking through the place the night of my mother's death. The curtains were closed, causing the deep darkness to consume the rooms.

"Maggie?" Anthony beckoned from behind me. I glanced back to see he and Ian had gathered the broken down boxes and packing tape. "You going to be okay with this?" The words were beginning to scatter again, and the letters were trying to speed away. I decided to skip trying to talk as I quickly walked into my room. All the memories of little Barış drawing or kicking his soccer ball in the room flooded my heart. Physical pain enveloped me; the task would be more difficult than I had originally presumed.

The easiest things to grab were my clothes. I didn't have horribly sad memories from a few shirts. Though, I noticed before Barış ran away, he'd taken the old duffel bag from the top shelf of our closet, and packed up most of his clothes. He was in a rush. The drawers were shut askew, and our shared drawers were trashed.

As I set the first boxes aside, I stepped up to the small bookcase in the corner. A couple dictionaries, quite a few children's books, and maybe some college books from when Baba was going through his schooling. That didn't exactly last long. One book caught my eyes. It was black, leatherbound, and had gold embellishments all about the spine and edges. My shaking hands reached out.

"Mag, is this where you slept?" Ian asked, sounding disappointed. I knew he was pointing to the quilt on the ground. I let Barış have the bed. I had to take care of him before myself. "It's a blanket on the floor." We couldn't afford another bed, and I knew the floor would be a bad idea for my brother's athletic body.

"What's that book?" Anthony inquired, maybe sensing my reluctance to answer Ian.

"'Aşk ve Nefret'," I responded simply. "It's Turkish, my father's native tongue. " Anthony 's eyebrows gestured for me to go on. "Means 'Love and Hate' in English."

"What's it about?"

"I don't remember," I murmured. "I just remember Baba reading it to me. I think it was about an actual married couple in Turkey, and their experiences, but I'd have to read it." I didn't know if I wanted to take it with me. It may very well have been the only thing I could attach memories of my father to. It felt heavier than it really should have been, but I knew it was only because my frail hands were weighed down with all the pain.

There were more painful memories I uncovered about the room. A blanket Baba and I would wrap up in when I wanted to cuddle on the couch, a VHS tape with a sticker on it that read: Maggie's first things, and a couple pictures of our family. I had to take all of it. I couldn't leave it all behind.

"What's this?" Ian questioned, holding up a shoebox. He didn't want to look inside without my permission. I nodded at him to check. I knew exactly what that was. He lifted the lid and set it off to the side, peering into the rectangular box. He reached in and pulled out some pictures. "Aww," he laughed. "It's baby Maggie and baby Anthony."

"Oh, what?" Anthony whined. "Why do you have baby pictures of us?"

"I always keep my memories, man," I smiled. We sat together, the three of us, in the middle of the floor, sifting through the box and passing pictures, notes, and yearbooks around. "Mm, I seem to recall someone almost getting expelled when he wouldn't give Ms. Clemmons this note," I waved the folded paper in front of me.

"No way!" Anthony took it from me, immediately taking apart the creases. "I cannot believe you still have this." Ian leaned over to see what it was. "I drew a cat - erh - a dog....or something, and Ms. Clemmons thought she saw me cheating off Maggie's paper, and I had to hide the note real quick." He shook his head, grinning from ear to ear at the memory. "She was so mad I wouldn't give anything up. She totally should have expelled me."

"Why were you drawing ambiguous dog-cat things for Mag?" Ian, chuckled.

"He was trying to impress me," I smiled. "He would draw me pictures a lot back then. Maybe you knew when I needed a bit of cheering up. "

"Maybe," Anthony shrugged. "Or I was just trying to get you to like me." He brushed his shoulder against mine. "Did it work? "

I suddenly didn't know how to answer that. Yeah, maybe it worked when we were little, but it didn't feel like he was talking about the past anymore. Also, when I looked up at Ian, I wondered if he might've felt left out. This memory was from before we met him.

I shrugged, continuing to dig into the box, "Maybe."

We didn't stay too much longer. In spite of having a good time with my boys, the weight of that house was pushing roughly on my shoulders. It wouldn't be wise to linger. My life was packed into the trunk of Anthony's car, and suddenly it seemed like I had absolutely nothing to my name. Granted, it wasn't like I could just do random shopping sprees for nice things, but I just thought I had more. Maybe I could change that. I didn't have a mother or a brother to take care of anymore. I could just look out for me for once.

"You ready to say goodbye?" Ian asked. We were stood on the sidewalk, passed the yard. I simply stared at the house. I heard Anthony close the trunk behind us, and step up to stand on the other side of me.

"I don't know," I murmured. "I've never called anywhere else home. How can I just pick up and start a new life in a new house just...just like that?" I felt my eyes burning. "How do people who willingly leave home so soon just move on?"

"That's different, Maggie," Anthony reminded me. "You're not willingly leaving when you're ready; you're forced to start a new life without your family. It'll be hard."

"But you have us," Ian chimed in, "You're not alone."

I smiled, a tear sneaking out and speeding down my cheek. I couldn't prevent the small giggle bubbling up. "I know." I reached out to find both of their hands, and they both intertwined their fingers with mine. "I'm not sure I could ask for anymore than you two. You're here for me, and that's more than anyone else in my family has done."

"Well, it's not really something to be rewarded for," Anthony sighed. "Honestly, I think it's only decent."

"Even still..." I grinned. "I think this life will be very rewarding for the three of us." It felt like the right thing to say. The boys both glanced at me, or perhaps at each other, it was difficult to tell.

I took one last look at the only house I'd ever called home. All the memories would be locked up forever and placed in my past. Maybe I'd never go back. If I didn't have to go back, I probably wouldn't find an excuse to.

I didn't need it. I had Ian and Anthony. We would be perfect together. Just the three of us.

\-----

"The only thing we couldn't get yet was another bed," Ian admitted, stood in my doorway. "But the couch is super comfortable, so it shouldn't be bad."

"That's fine," I murmured, scooting a box of hangers closer to me to get my clothes into the closet. "I wasn't expecting my first move to be so simple."

"Yeah, it's definitely a chore, but at least we got a nice sofa for you." He shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. "Or, you know, you could always use my bed...for the time being." His cheeks dashed pink and his lips pursed nervously.

I quickly ran my tongue across my dry lips, trying to think. "You mean, with you still in it?"

"Y-Yes. I mean, only if you wanted," he chuckled, tense. "I could take the couch if that would make you feel better." He refused to make eye contact with me, choosing instead to stare at the floor or the ceiling. He was also very antsy, unable to stop moving side to side or rocking back and forth. He was so sweet. Offering to lend me his bed until I could get my own; and his chagrin was incredibly cute. It took a bit of convincing to keep myself planted so I wouldn't go over and hug him mercilessly. He was being too adorable, and I was barely able to handle it.

"Mm, maybe, Ian," I finally responded. "I'll let you know how I feel tonight. Thanks."

"Sure, babe," he finished quickly, his face getting more red. He strode away before I could react, probably embarrassed. I thought it was very kind.

The boxes of things I didn't know where to put were stacked where my bed would go. I decided I'd done enough for the day, and I was tired of being alone. As I stepped out of my room, I heard a loud thud from Anthony's room. "Damn it!" he shouted.

"Anthony?" I knocked lightly.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," he assured, scrambling to come to the door. "Just dropped about six tons of books on my foot." He reached the barrier of wood between us, pulling it out of the way. He looked flustered with his face and neck all rosy, leaning to the side to get the weight off his hurt foot. "So, what can I do for you, gorgeous?"

I felt like my body was about to shake, but I controlled myself, willing myself to not be so weak to words. "I just...don't want to unpack anymore. Can I just watch you?" He didn't seem to know what to make of my request. It didn't sound like a weird thing to ask to me until I repeated it in my head. "I just mean, like, you know, we could talk if you wanted, but mostly I just want to lay in your bed." I noticed his brows slightly furrow. "No! I mean, not in a weird way. It just sounded like a better idea in my head, and it would be nice if you could stop smiling and just give me an answer."

He fought to get the smirk to disappear, chuckling at my unfortunate lack of coolness. "You can come lay on my bed, and," he paused to laugh again, "watch me."

"Don't make it sound weird," I sighed, pushing passed him.

"I don't have to," he reminded. "You've clearly done that all on your own." Anthony's bed was really soft, and seductive when I laid back on it. Like it was trying to coax me to stay there forever. I watched as he straightened his books on a few shelves, not having any obvious organization about them. He didn't seem to actually mind an audience.

Publicly, both the boys were very shy, and always acted like someone was watching them, but it was quite different when they were one on one with me. Well, Ian still got shy around me, especially after starting whatever it was the three of us were doing. He could never seem to find the right things to say. Though I knew he had a general idea of what he wanted to tell me, it was challenging for him to get the words out.

Anthony was quite the opposite. Perhaps it was because he and I knew each other longer than Ian did, but he knew precisely what he wanted to say and exactly how to get it out. He didn't seem to be having as much trouble flirting with me and also still being my friend like Ian was. He could very gently and romantically trail his fingertips down my arms until he reached my hands, but he could also still call me a bitch when I beat him down in Mortal Kombat.

Anthony seemed to feel more secure in the three-way relationship than Ian. I didn't blame Ian for his troubled attitude; none of us had ever been in such a situation before, and we couldn't be expected to get it right the first time. If we were going to continue down that path, it made sense for us to make silly mistakes. We would learn if it was what we really wanted.

Personally, I didn't know if it was right. Was I making a huge mistake by simply letting it get far enough that it got confusing? Was I putting either of the boys through a similar agony like I was going through myself?

Maybe not. Like always, I was probably just overreacting about the situation. Although, I could tell myself that all I wanted, it wouldn't alleviate my doubt.

"Man, I'm freaking hungry," Anthony commented suddenly, ripping me from my thoughts. "I'm thinking pizza. What about you?"

"That sounds so perfect right now," I groaned, holding my belly. Anthony left the room, calling Ian's name. He left me with my thoughts once more. He acted so nonchalant. Nothing seemed to be wrong with him.

Because nothing was wrong. There was no big deal to freak out about. All these worries were mine and mine alone. If I could just get myself to calm down, maybe I could actually enjoy my time with the boys.

"Mag!" Ian called. "Come tell me what you want on your pizza!"

That night, we watched movies, stuffed ourselves, joked around, and fell asleep together on the couch. It was a perfect night. It was the best way to christen the house. The house. Our house.

My home.


	8. Rejected

I feared accepting Ian's offer to sleep in his bed would cause an incredible amount of unspoken jealousy between the boys, so I took my place on the couch. It was very comfortable, just as Ian assured. Anthony made me a similar offer that same day, although he worded it quite differently.

"You know," he began, leaning over the couch where I was curled up, reading a chapter from my science book, "You're welcome to bunk with me until we get you a bed." He wore a smart smirk on his diamond shaped face, giving me the idea that he had more sinister thoughts in mind than just sleep. My thighs clenched.

"But the couch is so nice," I whined, trying to push the silly thoughts away.

"Uh, not nicer than my totally awesome queen bed," he countered. Tempting, but I declined. Things were going good between the three of us, and I was afraid of ruining that. Laying low would probably be the best choice.

Our days were slow, mild, and repetitive. It wasn't until two weeks of living in that house, I got the call that crushed my heart. Anthony didn't recognize the voice when he picked up the phone, so he didn't react the way I did when he handed it to me.

"Maggie?"

"Barış?!" I leapt from the couch. "Oh my god, where are you?" Anthony backed out of the room, probably to get Ian. "I-I've been torturing myself without you!"

" _Kız kardeşim_ ," the boy sighed, "I just...I don't want you to suffer over me anymore. You've sacrificed a life, a childhood, to raise me. _Mutter_ should have been there, but..."

"I wish I could've told you before, who she really was," I whispered. "You were too young to remember the beautiful, strong mother she was. You were too young to remember _Baba_. It just. Everything felt like a betrayal, except you."

"Sis-"

"It's hard to actually put into words," I stammered. "Speaking has been difficult. I just need you to come back. I can take care of you. You're _fourteen_ ; you can't be expected to take care of yourself in this world. Not alone. _Eve gel lütfen._ "

"I'm not coming back," he denied my request. "This feels right."

"Barış!" My eyes were burning. "Just tell me where you are!"

"Do you remember that run-down pizza parlor you took me to for my ninth birthday?" He sniffed. "It was dark and dirty and no one seemed to be enjoying it. The food was bad." He paused to laugh softly. "It was such a terrible place, but it was all you could afford for me, so I tried to have fun, and I forced myself through the horrible food. Because I knew it was important to you. "

"I'm leaving now," I urged, pulling on a jacket, "Just give me time."

"I'll be gone by the time you get here," he sighed. "I wanted to call to thank you for watching over me when no one else would, and for providing me the love of a parent, even though you should've only been my sister. Everything you've done...I won't take any of it for granted. I promise."

"Barış," I whimpered. " _Lütfen dur._ "

"Goodbye, _mutter_. _Seni seviyorum. Ich liebe dich. Always._ "

"Magdalene, stop!" Ian urged, his arms wrapped around my waist as I attempted to claw out the front door. "You'll never find him in the dark." Hot tears were pouring down my face, gliding between my lips, providing a salt taste in my mouth as I screamed. I don't remember what all I said. Most of it wasn't English; I found myself flipping between my father's native tongue and my mother's.

"She's, like, freaking out! Get water or something!" Ian barked at his friend. My skin was burning, and my head began to fill with pressure. Moments later, cold water splashed against my face, and I allowed it to abruptly stop my screaming and struggling. Consciousness slipped away from me rapidly, and I didn't fight it anymore. If anything, I welcomed it. I just didn't want to hurt. Sleep would be better than the feeling of almost bursting.

My legs gave out and I sipped from Ian's arms before dropping my head against the ceramic tiling of the entryway. It hurt, but only for a few seconds. After that, I didn't feel anything.

 

* * *

 

 

Consciousness slowly crept back into my head. Voices were bringing me back, familiar ones.

"There's not a lot we can do, except be here for her," Anthony argued on my right. "She doesn't have anyone else. Her dad left a long time ago, her mom just...left her as well, and now Barış has made it pretty clear he doesn't want to be found."

"I don't get it," Ian muttered to my left.

"Huh?"

"Her whole family just didn't think she was worth holding on to," he elaborated. "She's perfect. She's worth it. Why wouldn't her own blood think so as well?"

"I don't know, man," our taller friend sighed. "We're all she has now, though. So, uh, let's make a deal to not fuck this up for her?" They must have silently agreed to one another because it was quiet after that. "So, I'm thinking, since we're getting serious about this Smosh thing, I want to start including Maggie in the videos and the process."

"I'm all for it, dude," Ian replied. "The only reason she wasn't before was because she could almost never come over for very long. We'll see how she feels about it when she isn't having near constant anxiety attacks." They continued talking quietly for a while, maybe waiting for me to wake up. Was I awake? Was I dreaming? It was hard to tell. I could have actually been listening to the boys talk, but at the same time, I felt a whimsical sway fall over my head, making me think I was fabricating it. I did that often.

It was actually a quality about myself that drove me crazy. Why did consciousness have to feel so fake when my dreams always felt so real? I couldn't trust myself. I couldn't trust a single moment spent. It was like nothing was real. I wouldn't be able to stand it if I awoke one day and realized Ian and Anthony were just two kids I made up in my dreams. No friendship. No love. I would go insane.

My heart started pounding; what if that was true? My two best friends, just imaginary. Fright filled me, and I became terrified they wouldn't be there when I opened my eyes. I gasped and shot upright.

"Maggie?" Anthony questioned. I whipped my head around to see him. Relief spread over me. I pushed myself off the surface to leap into his arms; he didn't hesitate to catch me, but kept me relaxed on the...bed? "What's the matter?"

I shivered, unable to speak. Words were becoming extremely elusive since my mother's departure. I opened my eyes, thinking maybe visual stimulus would help, instead, I found myself far more speechless.

We weren't home anymore; we were in a hospital, and I had an IV in my arm. I tried speaking up, but I was simply confused, and my head was hurting. "Don't freak out," Ian urged me. "You just hit your head, but you're okay." I moaned in response, reaching up to touch the bandage.

"The doctor said you didn't seem to hurt anything too bad," Anthony continued. "Just got a pretty gross gash on your forehead. The only thing that freaked us out was that you were unconscious." Aside from the pulsating pain against my skull, and a vague shooting ache in my shoulder, my body seemed to be shaking, senseless. Then, the memories from before I hit my head came charging back.

Barış was gone.

Upon realizing that horrifying fact, a deep, negative sensation flooded my body, originating in my rib cage. It was that awful "pins and needles" feeling. Like my body had been asleep, or the circulation had been cut, and suddenly the blood had been freed to cycle through my system and my limbs were waking up one more. I hadn't realized I was hooked up to a heart monitor until it commenced a rapid beat. I gripped the bed sheet.

"Maggie?" Anthony craned his neck to meet eyes with me. "Say something." I wanted to. In that moment, I couldn't even think words, let alone attempt to form them. The feeling was so familiar. Trapped in a numb fog, letter-less, and hopeless. Why did it have to come back? Why was I so weak to it? "Dude, get the doctor." Ian nodded, his shoes padding away through the sliding door. 'I'm not trying to scare you or anything," Anthony looked back down at me, his thumbs rubbing my hands. "It's just...The sound of your head hitting the ground, and now you're not talking? I don't want to take any chances."

The glass door slid open once more as Ian lead an older man with a white coat into the room. He picked up a clipboard which was hanging at the foot of my bed, and proceeded to flip through it. "So, Ms...Dalkılıç," he began, mispronouncing my last name. "How are you feeling?" I inhaled sharply, trying to scramble up some kind of a response. After coming up with nothing, I shoved the air from my lungs, burying my face in my hands.

I allowed the conversation to fade out. My nerves trembled, my eyes watered. This couldn't continue to happen. How was I so feeble to my own fright? Through all the self-loathing going on in my head, the doctor's voice rang back into the forefront.

"...not always easy to treat the brain. At the same time, I think it's important to note, the brain sometimes has remarkable ways of healing itself." The doctor's words seemed to relieve the boys, but only slightly. It was only a statement of hope, not fact. "I would like to keep her here overnight, make sure no further damage was sustained during her incident. This appears to be a simple case of shock; however, if her condition does not begin correcting itself, I do recommend speech therapy."

"Do you think it'll come to that? Having to relearn how to speak?" Anthony demanded as the doctor was about to walk out. I felt his thin fingers grip mine before the doctor pivoted back around.

The older man contemplated for a few moments. "Considering the condition she was in before her fall, I can confidently claim majority of her current situation to be due to shock. Has she ever exhibited difficulty speaking in accordance with emotional stress before?" I nodded. "And you recovered?"

"She did," Ian answered for me. "Eventually."

"Then, I would say her chances of recovery without therapy are high." The doctor nodded at the three of us, assuring; he wanted to keep our hopes high, but he didn't want to promise us anything.

I huffed, looking to Anthony for approval of my breathy complaints. He simply stared, trying to smile, but not having the heart to, probably. I groaned, frustrated that they felt uncomfortable talking when I wasn't able to. My friends seemed to share glances with one another, but I wasn't focusing on that. Instead, I tried convincing myself it was all a dream. I shut my eyes, laid back on the pillow, and hoped and prayed my mind was just playing tricks on me.

"Mag?" Ian roused me from my apparent sleep. My eyes fluttered open quickly, searching immediately for him. I found his pretty, blue eyes as they were drowning themselves under his furrowed and creased brow. "The nurses say we have to go, but we will be back in the morning. First thing."

My heart dropped. They couldn't leave; I needed them. I shook my head, fiercely.

"We were trying to convince them to let us stay, but since we're not technically family, we don't have that right," the blue eyed boy shook his head lightly. "But, as soon as the visiting hours start, we will be right here with you."

I shuddered, realizing I would be all alone in this place. It was too clean, too quiet, and too unfamiliar to me. I wished they could stay. I reluctantly grasped onto the fact that they couldn't stay all night with me, and nodded my head. It wouldn't be a comfortable place for them to sleep anyways.

Anthony's long, thin lashes tickled my face as he planted a sweet, slow kiss on my cheek, telling me they both wished they could stick around. Blush spread across my skin, furiously. I held up the sign for "I love you" before wrapping my arms around his neck. He seemed to melt into the words behind that signal. He knew what that meant. When I released him, I reached over to Ian. I showed him the same sign before I exhaled into a smooch on his cheek. He chuckled.

They waved out the door, leaving me in silence and discomfort. I closed my eyes, adjusting myself onto my side, hoping sleep would simply take me over quickly. I would see them in the morning. I could be patient.

 

* * *

 

 

"Don't be stupid, Maggie," Anthony sighed, breathing in the steam from his coffee. He was getting sick of me saying it, I knew. I asked him how he could bother staying with someone so emotional, yet also expressively stunted as me. I was a moronic excuse for a human being, and he could do better. "You are perfect, and I would still love you even if you weren't. Now, stop."

He could tell me over and over again how perfect I was, but I would never buy it. Also, he could try convincing me that his love traveled to infinity and back, but I thought such a loyal and powerful affection towards someone like myself would be impossible. He could do better. He deserved better.

"Maggie, stop," the man repeated, setting down his coffee cup. His eyes pierced me, like they were warning me. "How can you think so highly of me and so lowly of yourself? We are worth each other."

"We are worth each other." I had never heard such a phase before. The combination of words and their meaning were utterly foreign to me. People have always been worth me - worth more than me, but I was never worth anything. It was easy for people to think so little of me, and dismiss me, or leave me as someone else's problem. After so much time, I started thinking that was my only destiny.

But, maybe he was right. I'm not lesser than anyone, and for someone to believe that specific people belong on pedestals is completely insane. I had just as many great opportunities in life as anyone else, and I could be loved by anybody in spite of my flaws. How could my mind allow my heart to become so damaged that my self-worth was non-existent? It was completely wrong. With every important person that abandoned me, my self-esteem ended up taking one for the team. My father didn't love me. My mother didn't love me. My brother didn't trust me. I altered my thoughts of myself, wondering if I was meant to simply be a stepping stone in everyone else's lives.

"I don't want you to think that about yourself," Anthony spoke up once more, standing from his seat to take a girl by the hand. She was vague. Not someone I consciously recognized, but I couldn't deny she was beautiful. A lot prettier than me. "You deserve better than you think you do, but it's not me." He picked up his coffee cup and walked away with the pretty girl. "Sorry, Magdalene."

"Sorry, Magdalene." It echoed through my head until I realized I was surfacing from sleep, and someone's voice was pulling me from the water. "Ms. Magdalene?" My eyes slowly fluttered open, and the hospital scene reentered my memory. The bandage around my head felt like it was making the throbbing worse. "I have to take you to get a few examinations done," a female voice said. I blinked the grogginess away.

The nurse at the foot of my bed looked too young to be a part of the staff, but she had scrubs and a badge, both adorned proudly. "I'm Lisa," the blonde girl told me, "I'm sorry to wake you, but we have to make sure your head injury isn't the cause of your not speaking." A second nurse brought in a wheelchair as Lisa gently peeled the sheets off of me. I sighed softly, trying to imagine anything else happening.

I pretended I was home with Ian and Anthony. We would be sitting on the couch, watching a movie, or playing Halo or something. At the very least, I wished they could be at the hospital with me, but visiting hours didn't start for another few hours. I had to be patient and cooperative. I could wait a few more hours. I could grow up.

 

* * *

 

 

I didn't mess up my brain. All the tests and images the doctors took showed no signs of damage; the only thing wrong physically was a sliver of broken skin and a killer migraine. My inability to speak stemmed from some emotional trauma. I had a feeling that would be the case, but I was really hoping I bumped my head too hard, so I could have a legitimate excuse. Having a petrified heart didn't seem good enough.

The boys looked so relieved when they walked into my room with a fresh set of clothes for me. The doctor must have let them know I was free to go home. At first, they didn't say a whole lot to me, probably not sure what to talk about with someone who wasn't going to talk back. As they escorted me to the car, Anthony gripped my hand, and I hooked my arm with Ian's. In spite of the drama and depressing instances I was going through, I knew I could rely on the boys to be a constant for me. Something stable, something dependable.

We dropped Ian off at work. He seemed guilty to have to go, but I understood that he couldn't possibly take time off after just starting a month before. The drive home with my other best friend was silent.

I didn't argue (obviously) when Anthony told me we were taking a nap. I was okay with that idea, having been woken up multiple times at the hospital for tests and scans. I did not receive a good night's sleep. He felt the need to guide me from room to room, though I was perfectly capable of walking. I changed into softer clothes, Anthony staying in the hallway with his eyes far away from the door to give me privacy. I noted as I stepped out to inform him I was done that he was acting different. More forward? No, maybe not more forward, but perhaps more stern. It was hard to find words for.

He let me position myself on his mattress before slipping under the sheets himself, and softly setting a hand on my shoulder. I felt a little spark for just a second. I was still, trying to understand the feeling that teased me. Was I crazy or did he do that to me? Whatever it was, I needed to find out because the numb sickness was beginning to feel like a straight jacket. I allowed my fingers to graze over his fingernails, to which he responded by rubbing my shoulder with his thumb.

Another little spark. My nerves shivered. Again. I needed it again. I gripped his fingers and pulled his arm around me, which he let me do, but kept his body from coming into contact with mine. The short bursts of electric shock originated from him arm, providing me with seconds of life. He had no idea. But the longer I held his limb, the more it all started to dull. At the realization of this, I panicked. The feelings had to stay. I needed more contact. I released his arm and began rolling over. Cautious to not touch me if I didn't want him to, he drew his arms up and leaned away, only causing me to scoot closer to him.

"Maggie?" He questioned as I wrestled my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. Yes, it was working. My heart wouldn't start, but it was like I could feel the rest of my organs working. It was a beginning. "Maggie," Anthony urged once more. I looked up at him. His dark brown eyes seemed heavy, yet I knew he was fully alert. I didn't usually instigate so much physical contact. "What's wrong? First you cling to me like your being taken away at the hospital, and now..." he trailed off, gesturing at the current situation. "Are you okay?"

To be honest, I wasn't listening. My sense of hearing stopped so all my other senses could take in my best friend. I watched his lips move hesitantly, like he knew he wasn't saying the right words, but he was doing the best he could. I took a deep breath, enjoying the natural musk he wore, which I'd grown so attached to. And the pulsing shocks of his body close to mine were intoxicating. Somehow it just wasn't quite enough.

"I just...am worried about you," he sighed. "I just want you to be o-" He didn't try to talk anymore as his arms finally embraced me, slowly. He was uncertain. I couldn't blame him. I didn't realize I'd made the decision to kiss him until I was almost there. His lips were borderline unresponsive to mine, surely due to his inability to believe what was happening. I pulled away, taking a breath and giving him time to catch his.

"...kay," he finished his previous thought, shuddering. We didn't move for quite some time. I was suddenly overcome with guilt as I realized what I'd done to him. Leave it to me to kiss a boy I love, without considering his wants, just for my own needs. Not to suggest I didn't want to kiss Anthony. I really did, and that's why I found it so easy to. But half the reason was so I could feel something. I couldn't be numb anymore. What if he didn't want to kiss me yet? Or at all? I just forced him through a barrier of uncertainty for my own personal gain.

I realized I was panting, and gripping his shirt. My body was beginning to shake. Anthony took immediate notice. "It's okay, it's okay," he assured me between kisses on my face. "Don't freak out. It's okay." He finally planted a deep kiss on my lips, and I felt my heart stir, but it was over all too soon. Hot tears tumbled down my face before he continued. "I - Maggie," he pecked my forehead, "Please don't cry. You caught me off guard, that's all." It didn't ease my embarrassment or my guilt.

"I know we've kissed before, but I wasn't expecting..." he trailed off as my eyes closed and huge tears squeezed out. What was more embarrassing than him not kissing back was my reaction. If I was ever denied a kiss in life, would I just cry until he showered me with smooches? "Don't think I don't want to kiss you," he warned, pulling my chin up so I would look at him. "I just wanted to wait until the right time. A time when we could all just sit back, take a breath, and not have to worry about anything." I didn't think life would ever be so courteous. "Right now, we're all drowning in different things to worry about, and... I'm sorry. I didn't want our first kiss to be in the middle of all this." My stomach churned, and all the sparks grew complacent, and left us. He had no intention of kissing me again that day; he didn't have to spell that one out for me. And I couldn't be upset. I had no right to be. I was the one who pushed it on him without knowing whether or not if he wanted it. I was embarrassed. I was ashamed. I was numb.

I could only give him a soft nod, a brisk smile, and lay my head down. I'd fall asleep soon, and wouldn't have to think about it. I didn't want to think about it.

But sleep never came for me. Even counting Anthony's shallow breaths until they became soft snores wouldn't alleviate me. Maybe the embarrassment was the reason for my lack of rest. At some point, I decided I couldn't lay there next to him any longer. Being close to him made me think more about it. His mattress hardly transferred my motions to the sleeping boy beside me as I crept away from him, though I need I would have to step lightly in an attempt to silence the creaky floor. After what felt like ages, but seemed like a split second, I was padding down the hallway to the kitchen. A few of the dishes were unpacked. A handful of plates and cups, at least. I got myself a glass of water thinking it would help soothe me.

It was like sleep was playing a cruel game with me. It avoided me, and demanded separation from me until I pulled out a book and grew complacent. Next thing I knew, Ian was softly shaking me awake, and removing the spilled water glass from the floor. I tried giving him an apologetic look, but it probably didn't read that way. I once again declined his offer to take his bed. I couldn't risk another selfish act; I couldn't do that to Ian. Something I noticed about myself when dealing with the boys was that I was much more cautious with Ian. Maybe I knew Anthony could handle drama a bit more, or maybe I just thought Ian couldn't at all. Either way, I wasn't willing to make mistakes with the blue-eyed boy. I wondered if he thought I didn't care about him because of that, but it was entirely the opposite. I just didn't know how to form that thought into words for him.

I flashed him a quick smile before curling up on the cushions, and waiting for sleep to find me again. Thankfully, it didn't take long that time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. At the moment, I'm working on a different project, so this story may return later.


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